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L162 


THE  GOLDEN  HOUR  SERIES 


A  new  series  of  boohs  for  young  people,  bound  in  extra 
cloth,  with  illuminated  designs,  illustrations, 
and  title-pages  made  especially 
for  each  volume 


A  LITTLE  DUSKY  HERO.  By  Harriet  T.  Comstock. 
THE  CAXTON  CLUB.  By  Amos  R.  Wells. 

THE  CHILD  AND  THE  TREE.  By  Bessie  Kenyon 
Ulrich. 

DAISIES  AND  DIGGLESES.  By  Evelyn  Raymond. 

HOW  THE  TWINS  CAPTURED  A  HESSIAN.  By  James 
Otis. 

THE  I  CAN  SCHOOL.  By  Eva  A.  Madden. 

MASTER  FRISKY.  By  Clarence  W.  Hawkes. 

MISS  DE  PEYSTER'S  BOY.  By  Etiieldred  B.  Barry. 
MOLLY.  By  Barbara  Yechton. 

-THE  WONDER  SHIP.  By  Sophie  Swett. 

WHISPERING  TONGUES.  By  Homer  Greene. 


PRICE  PER  VOLUME,  NET,  50  CENTS 


THOMAS  Y.  CROWELL  &  CO. 

NEW  YORK 


HERE,  FELLOWS,”  HE  WHISPERED,  “BOOST  ME  UP  THERE.” 


Copyright,  1902, 

By  Thomas  Y.  Crowell  &  Company. 


8 13 

W+624-i 


N. 


CONTENTS. 


Q 

Chapter. 

Page. 

fO 

I. 

The  Big  Ben  Franklin  Press  .  . 

1 

«.  ; 

II. 

An  Interesting  Boy . 

7 

III. 

The  Caxton  Club  is  Formed  .  . 

14 

IY. 

Editorial  Trials  and  Triumphs  . 

22 

Y. 

Who  is  “Lee  Brane ”  ?  .  .  .  . 

27 

YI. 

The  Feeble  Effort . 

o  o 
OO 

'is 

VII. 

The  Great  Journalistic  Trust 

39 

5s 

VIII. 

The  Beform  Campaign . 

44 

U 

v  \ 

IX. 

The  Woe  of  the  Little  Bed  Club- 

0 

House . 

50 

X. 

Ben  in  Trouble  .  . . 

56 

'N 

XI. 

Hard  Times . 

60 

% 

w 

XII. 

President  Grace  has  a  Word  to 

% 

■ 

Say . 

70 

■M 

XIII. 

N.A.P.A . 

76 

XIV. 

Ho,  for  the  Hub  ! . 

81 

XY. 

The  Transom . 

90 

4- 

XYI. 

“Forgive  Me  !  ” . 

96 

XVII. 

President  Earle . 

102 

(iii) 

THE  CAXTON  CLUB. 


- ♦ - 

I. 

THE  BIG  BEN  FRANKLIN  PRESS. 

“  T  think  I  have  it  this  time !  ”  said  Mr. 
Colton,  triumphantly. 

“  Have  what?”  asked  his  wife. 

“  Why,  something  to  rouse  Arthur  !  ” 

“  He ’s  listless  enough,  poor  fellow,”  sighed 
Mrs.  Colton.  “  To-day  I  thought  he  looked 
very  pale  and  languid.  Oh,  why  did  he  have 
to  have  scarlet  fever?  He  was  such  a  bright 
and  active  little  fellow.  What  is  it  you  *  are 
going  to  try  now  ?  ” 

“  It ’s  a  —  ”  began  Mr.  Colton,  but  cut  him¬ 
self  short  with  the  question,  “  Has  n’t  it  come  ?  ” 

“  Nothing  has  come.” 

“  That ’s  strange.  They  said  it  should  be  here 
by  six,  sure.  It ’ll  be  here  soon.  Call  Arthur, 
for  I ’d  like  to  have  him  on  the  spot.” 

Mrs.  Colton  smiled,  for  she  saw  that  her  hus¬ 
band  was  as  eager  as  a  boy  for  the  coming  toy, 


2 


THE  C  A  XT  ON  CLUB. 


whatever  it  was ;  more  eager  than  the  real  boy 
was  likely  to  be.  Her  heart  was  heavy  as  she 
went  to  call  her  son;  for  the  lacl,  though  sur¬ 
rounded  with  all  the  luxuries  his  rich  banker 
father  could  think  of,  was  spiritless,  with  a  pale 
face  and  peevish  ways.  His  poor  health  kept 
him  much  indoors,  and  he  had  a  tutor  instead 
of  the  joyous  life  of  a  school,  and  was  with¬ 
out  a  single  boy  companion.  His  room  was 
crammed  with  handsome  books  and  elaborate 
games  and  toys,  but  he  was  always  bored,  and 
went  wandering  about  the  large,  beautifully  fur¬ 
nished  house,  in  no  corner  of  which  had  this  only 
child  chanced  to  find  that  richest  of  all  posses¬ 
sions,  happiness. 

“Arthur,”  asked  his  father  suddenly,  as  the 
boy  and  his  mother  entered  the  parlor,  u  what 
do  you  want  most  in  all  the  world  ?  ” 

“  I  don’t  know  that  I  want  anything,  papa,” 
answered  Arthur.  “  Except,  maybe,”  he  added 
with  a  ghost  of  a  smile,  “  to  get  rid  of  some  of 
the  things  I  have.” 

“  When  I  was  of  your  age,”  the  banker  went 
on,  “there  was  just  one  thing  I  wanted  above 
everything  else  on  earth,  and  I  could  n’t  have 
it.  I  thought  of  it  this  morning  —  and  I  stepped 
around  and  ordered  it  sent  up  to  you  !  ” 

Arthur  did  n’t  express  the  least  interest. 

His  father  looked  disappointed,  but  went  on. 


THE  BIG  BEN  FRANKLIN  PRESS.  3 


“  It  will  be  here  in  a  few  minutes.  Can  yon 
guess  what  it  is  ?  ” 

“  No  ;  of  course  not,”  Arthur  replied,  with  a 
listless  air. 

“  But  you  might  make  one  guess  at  least,  to 
please  your  father,”  suggested  Mrs.  Colton, 
gently. 

“  Oh,  well,  then,  I  guess  an  air-gun.” 

“You  know  you  have  an  air-gun  already, 
Arthur !  ” 

“  Yes,  papa,  and  so  I  have  everything  else 
that  I  can  think  of.” 

A  maid  came  to  the  door. 

“  The  expressman,  mum ;  and  it ’s  a  big  thing 
they  have  —  where  will  you  want  it  put, 
mum  ?  ” 

“  Have  it  carried  to  my  study,  for  the  pres¬ 
ent,”  said  Mr.  Colton,  rising.  “  Come,  Arthur; 
come,  mother !  ” 

It  was  indeed  a  “big  thing”  they  found  in  the 
study,  with  two  expressmen  puffing  over  it. 
Besides,  there  were  several  large  boxes  and  a 
chest  of  little  drawers.  Dismissing  the  men, 
Mr.  Colton  turned  on  a  blaze  of  light,  and  pro¬ 
ceeded  briskly  to  remove  the  wrappings. 

There  was  a  final  cut  of  a  cord,  with  a  great 
rustle  a  lot  of  brown  paper  and  excelsior  fell  to 
the  floor — and  there  stood  disclosed  a  printing- 
press,  almost  as  tall  as  Arthur  himself.  It  glis- 


4 


THE  C  A  XT  ON  CLUB. 

* 

tenecl  with  gay  paint,  and  its  new  steel  surfaces 
flashed  brightly. 

“  All  ready  for  working,”  cried  Mr.  Colton, 
gleefully.  “  And  Ben  Franklin  himself  never 
had  such  a  fine  press  as  that  —  it ’s  called  the 
Ben  Franklin,  by  the  way  !  ” 

“  Why  don’t  you  take  hold  of  the  handle  and 
make  it  go,  Arthur?  ”  asked  Mrs.  Colton. 

“  There ’s  nothing  in  it  yet  to  print,”  objected 
Arthur,  who  had  been  sitting  stretched  out  on 
a  chair,  watching  his  father  through  half-shut 
eyes. 

Just  then  the  dinner-bell  rang,  and  Mr. 
Colton,  rather  discouraged,  turned  away  with¬ 
out  a  word. 

But  after  dinner  he  returned  to  his  ungrate¬ 
ful  task,  and  tried  hard  to  interest  his  son, 
calling  Arthur’s  tutor  to  his  aid.  Mr.  Augus¬ 
tine  Drayton  was  a  very  serious-minded  young 
man,  a  doctor  of  philosophy,  and  deeply  inter¬ 
ested  in  the  dead  languages.  He  aspired  to  a 
college  professorship,  but  at  present  was  com¬ 
pelled  to  make  his  living  by  tutoring.  He  had 
no  liking  for  boys,  and  though  he  did  his  work 
conscientiously,  he  was  vastly  bored  by  it.  He 
stood  by  the  new  press,  nearly  as  listless  as 
Arthur,  wishing  himself  upstairs  with  his 
Thucydides. 

He  presently  roused,  however,  and  joined  in 


THE  BIG  BEN  FRANKLIN  PRESS.  5 


the  banker’s  efforts.  They  daubed  the  ink  on 
the  ink-plate,  and  worked  the  lever  till  it  was 
evenly  distributed,  in  a  black,  glossy  sheet,  over 
which  the  smooth  roller  glided  oilily.  Together, 
while  Arthur  stood  by,  they  unpacked  the  shin¬ 
ing  type  and  put  the  letters  in  the  proper  boxes 
of  the  fresh,  clean  printer’s  cases,  consulting  an 
encyclopedia  to  find  the  right  compartments. 
Then  the  two  men  took  turns  with  the  compos¬ 
ing  stick,  and  “set  up  ”  some  verse  —  Longfel¬ 
low’s  “  Excelsior.”  They  fastened  the  completed 
poem  into  the  “  chase,”  fixed  it  on  the  press, 
and  drew  off  some  copies  on  the  best  paper  Mr. 
Colton  had  in  his  desk. 

Arthur’s  father  had  enjoyed  it  all  as  if  he  had 
returned  to  his  boyhood  days,  and  the  tutor 
got  somewhat  interested ;  but  Arthur  had 
offered  to  take  little  part.  At  his  mother’s  wish 
he  had  put  a  few  types  into  their  boxes  and  “  set 
up  ”  a  line  of  “  Excelsior.”  His  father  told  him 
to  “  pull  a  proof,”  and  so  he  took  hold  of  the 
lever  and  drew  it,  but  scarcely  glanced  at  the 
copy  of  the  poem  he  had  printed  himself. 

“Well,  papa,”  he  said  at  last,  “I  guess  I’ll 
go  up  to  bed.  We  ’ve  tried  the  press  enough, 
have  n’t  we  ?  ” 

Mr.  Colton  looked  up  in  surprise  from  the 
proof  he  was  correcting.  He  had  put  into  type 
the  first  paragraph  of  the  Declaration  of  Inde- 


6 


THE  C  A XT  ON  CLUB. 


penclence,  u  just  to  try  his  hand  on  prose.”  It 
was  so  enjoyable  that  really  he  had  scarcely 
noticed  how  little  interest  Arthur  was  taking. 

“  Why,  Arthur  !  ”  he  exclaimed,  “  I  don’t 
believe  you  are  having  half  so  good  a  time  as  I 
am  !  What  do  you  want,  anyway  ?  ” 

Arthur  looked  away  for  a  minute,  and  then 
the  tears  came  up  in  his  eyes. 

“  You  ’re  as  good  as  you  can  be,  papa,”  he  said 
at  last,  really  stirred.  “  I ’m  not  ungrateful ; 
and  if  you  don’t  mind,  I  think  there  is  one  thing 
I  want.  I  —  want  —  a  —  chum  !  ” 


AN  INTERESTING  BOY. 


7 


II. 

AN  INTERESTING  BOY. 

“  I  believe  he ’s  right !  ” 

Mr.  Colton  said  this  to  his  wife  after  Arthur 
had  gone  to  bed  and  Mr.  Augustine  Drayton 
had  retired  thankfully  to  his  Thucydides. 

“  But  it  seems  rather  hard,”  Mrs.  Colton 
laughingly  objected,  u  after  you  have  done  so 
much  for  him,  made  yourself  his  playmate, 
really  devoted  yourself  to  his  smallest  whim.” 

“  Perhaps  I  made  my  mistake  right  there,” 
said  Mr.  Colton.  “  Perhaps  it  would  have  been 
better  to  let  him  do  more  for  himself.  Any¬ 
way,  I  ’m  pretty  sure  lie  has  hit  his  need  —  a  real 
live  boy  to  play  with  and  work  with,  instead  of 
a  middle-aged  banker  with  a  bald  head.” 

Mr.  Colton  was  a  man  of  business,  and  when 
he  saw  a  thing  ought  to  be  done  he  did  it  at 
once.  Only  two  nights  thereafter,  while  Mr. 
Colton  was  reading  in  his  study,  and  his  wife, 
sitting  near,  was  playing  a  game  of  checkers 
with  her  son,  there  came  a  ring  at  the  front  door¬ 
bell,  and  the  maid  announced,  “  A  boy  to  see 
Master  Arthur  !  ” 


8 


THE  CAXTON  CLUB. 


This  in  itself  was  a  surprise.  The  like  had 
never  happened  before. 

“A  boy  to  see  me?”  exclaimed  Arthur, 
jumping  up,  while  the  checkers  rolled  in  every 
direction.  “What  can  he  want?  Where  shall 
I  see  him,  papa  ?  ” 

“  In  the  parlor,”  Mr.  Colton  answered,  his 
eyes  twinkling  at  his  wife’s  surprise  and  his 
boy’s  eagerness.  “  And  if  it  is  some  one  come 
to  stay  awhile,  you  might  take  him’  up  to  your 
room.” 

Arthur  found  awaiting  him  in  the  parlor  a 
manly  lad,  a  little  older  than  himself.  He  did 
not  appear  quite  at  his  ease, —  perhaps  he  had 
never  been  in  so  elegant  a  room  before, —  but 
his  brown  eyes  looked  Arthur  straight  in  the 
face  as  he  rose  to  introduce  himself. 

“  I ’m  Ben  Earle,”  he  said,  “  and  your  father 
told  me  you  had  a  new  printing-press  and  he ’d 
like  me  to  give  you  some  points  about  how  to 
use  it.  I  ’ll  be  glad  to,  if  you  want  me  to,  for 
my  father  is  a  printer  and  I  ’ve  worked  with 
type  since  I  was  a  baby.” 

“  Indeed  I  ’d  be  glad  !  ”  answered  Arthur, 
heartily.  “  In  fact,  for  a  long  while  I ’ve  been 
just  spoiling  for  some  other  fellow  to  do  things 
with.” 

“  Mr.  Colton  said  you  were  n’t  very  strong 
and  did  n’t  go  out  much,”  Ben  said.  “  But  now 


AN  INTERESTING  BOY. 


9 


what  is  it  you  particularly  want  to  know  about 
your  press  ?  ” 

“Everything,”  laughed  Arthur.  “I  never 
touched  one  before.  But  you  can’t  show  me 
about  it  down  here.  Come  up  to  my  room, 
won’t  you  ?  ” 

They  mounted  the  broad  stairs,  therefore,  and 
came  to  an  apartment  such  as  Ben  had  never  even 
imagined.  A  great  contrast  it  was  to  his  own 
small,  bare  bed-chamber  at  home  !  It  was  very 
large  —  the  press  seemed  to  take  up  no  space 
at  all  —  and  the  bed  stood  in  a  recess,  so  that  a 
great  deal  of  room  was  left  for  Arthur’s  many 
belongings.  On  the  polished  floor  lay  the  soft¬ 
est  of  rugs,  and  on  the  wall  were  the  merriest 
of  paintings  —  frisky  dogs,  comical  cats,  clowns, 
courts  of  monkeys,  as  well  as  a  beautiful  land¬ 
scape  or  two.  There  were  several  bookcases, 
stocked  with  such  an  array  of  volumes  as  made 
Ben  look  with  longing  eyes ;  and  everywhere 
there  were  toys  — ■  mechanical  toys,  grotesque 
toys,  handsome  toys,  instructive  toys,  and 
toys  u  just  for  fun.”  Games  galore.  Indoor 
tennis,  indoor  croquet,  indoor  archery,  every¬ 
thing  indoor  that  you  could  think  of. 

Ben  drew  a  long  breath. 

“My!”  he  exclaimed.  “You  must  have 
larks  in  such  a  room  as  this,  even  if  you  are  n’t 
very  well !  ” 


10 


THE  C  A  XT  ON  CLUB. 


“  Larks  !  ”  answered  Arthur.  “  You  don’t 
know.  Why,  I  Ve  been  miserable  most  of  the 
time  ever  since  I  can  remember !  ” 

Ben  thought  he  meant  that  he  was  nearly 
always  sick,  and  remained  sympathetically  silent. 

In  a  good  place  on  the  polished  floor,  right  in 
the  big  bay  window,  stood  the  shining  new  press, 
with  its  cases  of  type  beside  it.  Ben  went  over 
to  it  at  once. 

“What  a  beauty!”  he  cried.  “And  how 
big!  And  a  Ben  Franklin,  too.  That’s  the  best 
make.  And,  do  you  know,  that ’s  my  name, 
too :  Benjamin  Franklin  Earle.  I ’m  very  proud 
of  it.” 

“  I  should  be,  if  I  had  it,”  said  Arthur,  regret¬ 
fully. 

“You?”  exclaimed  Ben.  “Why,  yours  is 
much  finer  —  to  be  named  after  one  of  the 
noblest  kings  that  ever  lived!  You  ought  to 
get  some  knights  together  !  And  you  ought  to 
have  a  Bound  Table  !  ” 

“  I  never  thought  of  my  name  before  as  stand¬ 
ing  for  anything,”  said  Arthur.  “  I  know  what 
you  mean,  though.” 

Ben  went  all  over  the  new  press  with  enthu¬ 
siasm,  praising  this  part  and  showing  its  special 
excellence,  pointing  out  the  use  of  that  part, 
making  the  whole  machine  very  important  and 
interesting  in  its  owner’s  eyes.  In  fact,  Ben  was 


AN  INTERESTING  BOY . 


11 


an  enthusiast  in  the  splendid  art  of  the  printer. 
His  father  was  foreman  in  the  large  office  of  the 
town  paper,  the  leading  paper  of  the  county, 
The  Gardner  Graphic.  He  explained  to  Arthur 
many  of  the  fascinating  details  of  the  work: 
how  to  hold  the  “  composing-stick  ”  —  the  steel 
box  in  which  the  type  is  “set  up;  ”  how  to  use 
an  “  ern  quad  ”  in  paragraphing  ;  how  to  “  space 
out  ”  lines  so  that  they  would  just  fill  the  com¬ 
posing-stick,  and  b.e  neither  too  tight  to  slip  out 
easily  nor  so  loose  as  to  “pi;  ”  how  to  “make 
up  forms  ”  — -  that  is,  how  to  arrange  his 
“  sticks  ”  of  type  in  the  iron  frame  (the 
“chase”)  with  “column  rules”  and  “head 
rules  ”  so  as  to  make  a  page,  and  how  to  “  lock 
it  in  ”  with  the  ingenious  “  quoins  ”  so  that  the 
page  became  a  compact  whole  ;  how  to  pad  out 
the  “  tympan  ”  on  which  the  blank  paper  was 
placed,  so  as  to  get  a  good  “  impression ;  ”  how 
to  regulate  the  ink-rollers ;  how  to  correct  a 
proof ;  how,  in  short,  to  “  turn  out  a  good  job.” 

That  was  one  of  Ben’s  favorite  expressions, 
“  turn  out  a  good  job,”  and  Arthur  soon  caught 
his  spirit,  and  came  to  understand  and  feel  some¬ 
thing  of  the  pleasure  there  is  in  doing  any  sen¬ 
sible  piece  of  work,  and  doing  it  in  workmanlike 
fashion. 

It  was  at  the  close  of  this  most  delightful 
evening  that  Ben  proposed  the  Great  Plan. 


12 


THE  C  A XT  ON  CLUB. 


He  had  started  to  go  several  times,  but 
Arthur,  with  eagerness,  had  insisted  on  his 
staying  while  they  set  up  “  just  one  thing 
more.”  They  had  printed  part  of  Arthur’s  fa¬ 
vorite  poem,  “  The  Charge  of  the  Light  Brigade,” 
and  part  of  Ben’s,  “  The  Psalm  of  Life ;  ”  also  a 
page  of  brief  quotations  with  a  neat  border 
around  it.  They  had  paused  at  this  point,  and 
Arthur  had  proposed  that  they  print  a  paper, 
when  the  Great  Plan  popped  into  Ben’s  head. 

I  will  tell  you  how  it  was  announced  down¬ 
stairs. 

Mrs.  Colton,  still  sitting  in  the  study  with  her 
husband,  had  said  for  the  tenth  time,  “I  do 
wonder  how  the  boys  are  getting  along  !  ” 

“  I  wonder,”  said  Mr.  Colton,  “  whether 

Arthur  is  bored  !  ” 

“  I  wonder,”  said  Mrs.  Colton,  “  whether  that 
Ben  Earle  is  the  right  kind  of  boy  for  Arthur  to 
be  with  !  ” 

“  I  wonder,”  said  Mr.  Colton,  “  whether 

Arthur  is  treating  him  politely  !  ” 

“  I  wonder,”  said  Mrs.  Colton,  “  whether 

Arthur  is  n’t  getting  all  tired  out !  ” 

“  I  wonder,”  said  Mr.  Colton,  “  whether 

Arthur  is  becoming  interested  in  that  printing- 
press  !  ” 

It  was  at  this  point  that  the  two  in  the  study 
heard  swift  steps  on  the  stairs,  and  Arthur  burst 


AN  INTERESTING  BOY. 


13 


into  the  room,  his  eyes  shining,  his  hearing  alert, 
his  entire  appearance  transformed.  After  him, 
more  sedately,  came  Ben. 

“  Oh,  mamma !  ”  cried  Arthur,  interrupting 
the  greetings  ;  u  oh,  papa  !  Ben  has  just  the  finest 
scheme  !  And  may  I  go  into  it  ?  He ’s  print¬ 
ing  a  paper,  and  he  knows  another  fellow  who ’s 
printing  a  paper,  and  I  could  print  a  paper,  and 
he  says  if  you  ’re  willing  we  three  could  form 
a  club  together.  And  you  ’re  willing,  are  n’t 
you  ?  ” 


14 


THE  C  A  XT  ON  CLUB . 


III. 

THE  CAXTON  CLUB  IS  FORMED. 

Arthur’s  interest  in  the  idea  of  printing  a 
paper  grew  greater  instead  of  less,  and  tlie  very 
next  day  he  asked  his  mother’s  permission  to  visit 
Ben,  and  go  with  him  to  see  the  third  boy  of  the 
proposed  printers’  club,  —  it  being  Saturday, 
Ben  would  not  be  in  school,  —  and  getting  the 
permission,  he  rushed  out  of  the  house  much  like 
any  other  boy. 

The  Earles  lived  in  a  plain  cottage,  on  a  side 
street  of  the  pretty  college  town.  Mr.  Earle 
had  not  yet  returned  from  his  day’s  work  at  the 
Gardner  Graphic  office,  but  Mrs.  Earle  was 
there,  a  kindly-faced,  motherly  woman ;  also 
Ben’s  sister  Kate,  of  about  Arthur’s  age,  as 
bright  a  lassie  as  one  would  find  in  a  day ’s 
journey. 

Ben  took  Arthur  up  into  his  own  room. 

“Not  much  like  yours,”  he  said;  and  indeed 
it  was  n’t. 

Everything  was  orderly  and  wonderfully  neat, 
but  to  Arthur’s  eye  the  room  seemed  bare  and 
cold.  The  wall  was  white,  but  not  papered. 


THE  CAXTON  CLUB  IS  FORMED.  15 


The  one  table  was  of  pine,  and  not  covered. 
There  was  a  square  of  worn  carpet  in  the  centre 
of  the  floor,  and  upon  the  wall  were  a  few  pict¬ 
ures  of  great  men  that  Ben  had  cut  from 
illustrated  papers  —  Washington,  Lincoln,  and 
Franklin  being  conspicuous  among  them. 

“  You  must  see  my  books,”  said  Ben.  “  They 
are  not  very  many,  but  I  get  lots  out  of  them.” 

There  were  only  three  shelves  full  —  home¬ 
made  shelves  at  that,  but  the  books  were  beautb 
fully  kept,  and  Ben  evidently  knew  all  about 
them. 

u  Have  you  read  this  ?  ”  he  asked,  taking  down 
F ranklin’s  autobiography . 

No.  Arthur  had  it,  and  in  an  elegant  leather 
binding,  but  he  had  n’t  read  it.  “  I  thought  it 
would  be  dull,”  he  said. 

“Dull?  Just  read  this  page!  And  here! 
And  here  !  ”  Arthur  read,  and  saw  that  these 
favorite  passages  of  Ben’s  were  full  of  sprightli- 
liness  and  quaint  good  sense. 

In  that  fashion  Ben  took  Arthur  through  his 
library.  He  had  “Ivanhoe  ”  and  “  Kenilworth  ” 
and  “  Quentin  Durward,”  he  had  Tennyson  and 
Longfellow  and  Shakespeare,  he  had  Green’s 
“England”  and  Ridpath’s  “United  States,”  he 
had  Irving’s  Lives  of  Washington  and  Colum¬ 
bus,  and  he  was  especially  proud  of  a  good 
encyclopedia.  Of  course  he  had  a  Bible,  and  he 


16 


THE  C  A  XT  ON  CLUB. 


kept  next  to  it  a  copy  of  Bunyan’s  “  Pilgrim’s 
Progress.” 

“  Of  course  you  'll  have  to  excuse  me,”  said 
Ben,  after  a  while.  “  I  never  know  when  to  stop 
when  I  get  to  talking  about  books,  and  you 
have  so  many  —  my  talk  must  be  an  old  story 
to  you.” 

“  I  have  the  books,”  answered  Arthur,  “  but 
you  are  the  one  who  has  the  knowledge  of  them. 
I  have  n’t  read  anything  at  all  compared  with 
you.” 

“  I  must  show  you  my  collections,”  said  Ben. 

They  were  well  worth  seeing,  for  Ben  was  a 
diligent  collector  of  many  things  worth  collect¬ 
ing  as  well  as  of  a  few  things  not  worth  it. 
Through  his  father’s  position  on  The  Gardner 
Graphic  he  had  a  fine  chance  to  gather  postage 
stamps  and  post-marks,  and  he  had  improved 
his  opportunity.  He  could  talk  about  Servia 
and  Roumania,  about  Natal  and  Korea  and 
Trinidad.  He  had  an  excellent  collection  of 
Indian  arrow-heads,  hammers,  pestles,  mortars, 
tomahawks,  picked  up  in  the  fields.  Gardner  is  in 
a  part  of  Ohio  that  abounds  in  fossils,  and  Ben 
could  show  shelf  after  shelf  of  these  wonderful 
petrified  animals,  whose  scientific  names  he  had 
obtained  from  various  college  professors, —  he 
could  rattle  them  off  by  the  dozen.  He  raised 
butterflies  from  the  larvae  and  had  scores  of 


THE  CAXTON  CLUB  IS  FORMED.  17 


cigar  boxes  filled  with  lovely  painted  creatures. 
He  was  especially  interested  in  snail  shells,  and 
had  brought  together,  he  was  proud  to  tell 
Arthur,  specimens  of  all  the  Gardner  snails 
they  could  show  at  the  college.  Helix  albolabris , 
Helix  tridentata ,  Helix  hirsuta  —  they  were  all 
neatly  labelled. 

This  was  a  new  world  to  Arthur,  a  world  of 
active,  original  sport,  sport  that  stood  for  some¬ 
thing.  It  was  quite  different  from  the  ready¬ 
made,  patented  games  with  which  he  had  been 
trying  all  his  life  to  amuse  himself !  He  drew 
a  big  sigh  of  delight  and  admiration  with  every 
fresh  exhibit.  Ben  became  in  his  eyes  a  marvel 
of  knowledge  and  industry ;  though,  really,  he 
was  only  a  bright,  ordinary  American  boy. 

Of  a  sudden  Arthur  bethought  himself  of  the 
purpose  for  which  he  had  come. 

“Where  is  it?”  he  asked.  “Where  is  your 
press  ?  And  how  about  that  other  boy  printer 
—  can’t  we  see  him  to-day?  ” 

“  Press  ?  ”  laughed  Ben.  “  Did  you  think 
I  had  a  press  ?  Why,  I  can’t  afford  a  press. 
There ’s  a  little  job  press  at  the  Graphic  office 
my  father  lets  me  use  on  Saturdays.  I  work 
fast,  and  get  my  paper  out  on  that.  Yes,  we  can 
go  to  Caspar’s.  He  has  a  press  almost  as  fine 
as  yours  !  ” 

Caspar  Grace  was  the  son  of  the  college  presi- 


18 


THE  C  A  XT  ON  CLUB. 


dent.  The  imposing  buildings  of  Albemarle 
College,  in  their  roomy,  leafy  campus,  stood  not 
far  away. 

44 1  always  love  to  come  here,”  Ben  said  as  they 
entered  the  yard,  44  and  I  ’m  going  to  the  college, 
too,  some  day,  if  I  have  to  work  ten  years  to 
get  the  money.” 

A  shrill  whistle  from  Ben,  long  drawn  out 
and  rising  and  falling  in  a  beautiful  liquid  way, 
brought  Caspar  to  an  upper  window  and  speedily 
to  the  front  door. 

44 That’s  our  ‘flicker’  call,”  Ben  explained. 

44  Flicker?  ”  asked  Arthur. 

44Yes.  The  flicker  is  a  kind  of  woodpecker 
—  a  fine  fellow.  Don’t  you  know  him  ?  I  ’ll 
introduce  you  some  day.  But  first”  —  for 
Caspar  was  now  on  hand  —  44  let  me  introduce 
you  to  Caspar  Grace.  This  is  Arthur  Colton, 
Caspar.” 

Caspar  proved  to  be  a  red-headed  lad,  of  about 
Arthur’s  age.  His  eyes  were  of  dancing  blue, 
and  his  mouth  always  wanted  to  smile.  He  was 
seldom  known  to  get  angry,  and  though  he  was 
not  very  studious  himself,  he  had  a  deep  respect 
for  Ben  and  his  book  knowledge. 

44  You  got  just  the  right  fellow,”  he  said  to 
Arthur,  44  to  show  you  how  to  run  your  press. 
What  Ben  does  n’t  know  about  printing  is  n’t 
worth  knowing.” 


THE  CAXTON  CLUB  IS  FORMED.  19 


“  Fiddlesticks  ! ”  exclaimed  Berr.  “  My  father 
would  n’t  think  of  giving  me  any  kind  of  posi¬ 
tion  in  the  Graphic  office  yet.” 

Caspar  led  the  way  to  his  “  den,”  as  he  called 
it.  Back  of  the  large  mansion  was  a  spacious 
barn,  and  in  the  loft  a  room  had  been  fitted  up 
especially  for  the  one  boy  of  the  family.  It  was 
a  delightful  place,  with  the  smell  of  the  hay 
coming  through  the  door,  and  the  lovely  spring 
sights  and  sounds  and  odors  floating  in  through 
two  large  windows.  There  were  shelves  every¬ 
where,  for  Caspar  was  a  collector  as  enthusiastic 
as  Ben,  though  far  from  Ben’s  equal  in  thorough¬ 
ness  and  painstaking.  In  the  place  of  honor 
stood  a  good-sized  printing-press,  somewhat 
smaller,  however,  than  Arthur’s  magnificent 
“  Ben  Franklin,”  and  near  the  windows,  where 
they  would  get  good  light,  were  the  cases  of 
type. 

“  Behold,”  said  Caspar  with  a  flourish,  “the 
editorial-rooms,  composing-rooms,  press-rooms, 
and  mailing-rooms  of  The  Humbug !  Take  a 
chair.” 

The  one  chair  was  given  to  Arthur  as  the  guest 
of  honor. 

“And,  by  the  way,”  Ben  asked,  “what  will 
you  call  your  paper,  Arthur  ?  Mine  is  The 
Learner.  I ’m  not  quite  so  frank  in  the  title  as 
Caspar  is.” 


20 


THE  C  A  XT  ON  CLUB. 


“  I  don’t  know,”  Arthur  faltered.  “  I  ’ve 
thought  of  a  few  names,  but  none  of  them  suit 
me.  You  see,  I  don’t  know  what  sort  of  a  thing 
it  will  turn  out  to  be,  and  I ’m  so  much  in  doubt 
that  this  morning  I  thought  I ’d  just  call  it 
The  Query.” 

“A  capital  name,”  said  Caspar.  “You  can 
do  anything  you  please  under  cover  of  that 
name.” 

u  It ’s  a  new  name,”  Ben  added,  “  and  a 
modest  one,  and  I  like  it.” 

Then  the  boys  fell  to  discussing  the  proposed 
club,  and  they  grew  very  enthusiastic  about  it. 
They  could  hold  regular  meetings  to  criticise 
each  other’s  work.  They  could  read  books 
about  printing,  a  chapter  at  a  meeting.  They 
could  have  discussions  over  the  best  editorial 
methods.  It  would  be  great  fun. 

They  decided  that  they  did  n’t  want  a  con¬ 
stitution. 

“  Everybody  says  constitutions  are  a  nui¬ 
sance,”  said  Caspar,  “  and  I  move  we  don’t  have 
one  unless  we  find  we  have  to.” 

“  But  we  must  have  a  president,”  -said  Ben, 
u  for  we  might  want  to  pass  a  motion  sometime, 
and  we ’d  need  some  one  to  put  the  question.” 

So  they  chose  Caspar  president,  because  he 
was  the  son  of  a  real  president.  Then  they 
made  Ben  the  secretary,  because  he  could  write 


THE  CAXTON  CLUB  IS  FORMED.  21 


best,  and  Arthur  the  treasurer  because  his  father 
was  a  banker.  44  Though,  for  that  matter,” 
said  Caspar,  44  our  funds  are  n’t  likely  to  drive  a 
hole  in  your  pocket  very  soon  ! 

Then  they  fell  to  discussing  the  name ;  and 
they  found  it  hard  to  find  a  good  one.  They 
discovered  that  their  own  names  were  an  A,  B, 
C  —  Arthur,  Ben,  and  Caspar  —  and  came  near 
calling  it  44  The  Alphabet  Club.” 

44  That  would  n’t  be  a  bad  name,”  declared 
Arthur,  “since  we  shall  have  so  much  to  do 
with  the  alphabet.”  But  the  others  thought  it 
sounded  too  much  like  primers. 

44  The  Scribblers,”  44  The  Typos,”  44  The  Com¬ 
posing-stick  Club,”  were  all  proposed  in  turn, 
only  to  be  voted  down  unanimously. 

At  last,  after  they  had  been  cudgelling  their 
brains  for  some  time,  a  victorious  thought  came 
to  Ben.  44  Boys,”  said  he,  44  we  have  forgotten 
the  first  English  printer.  Let ’s  call  ourselves 
The  Caxton  Club  !  ” 


22 


THE  C A  XT  ON  CLUB. 


IV. 

EDITORIAL  TRIALS  AND  TRIUMPHS. 

When  Mr.  Colton  saw  wliat  a  hold  the  new 
employment  was  gaining  upon  his  sickly  boy, 
how  it  was  arousing  him,  and  how  much  he  was 
enjoying  the  companionship  of  Ben  and  Caspar, 
and  what  fine  lads  they  were,  and  especially 
when  he  learned  that  they  had  gone  on  and 
organized  a  club,  —  when  he  realized  all  this,  lie 
was  greatly  pleased.  So  was  Arthur’s  mother. 
And  Mr.  Augustine  Drayton  was  also  pleased, 
because  Arthur  almost  at  once  became  more 
interested  in  his  lessons,  and  much  more  inter¬ 
esting  to  teach. 

So  greatly  delighted  was  Mr.  Colton  that  he 
presently  sent  for  a  carpenter  and  told  him  to  meet 
the  Caxton  Club  and  plan  with  them  for  a  club¬ 
house,  to  be  built  on  the  lawn  back  of  his  home. 

Those  were  important  meetings  of  the  Caxton 
Club,  to  be  sure  !  There  were  to  be  two  rooms,  one 
for  Arthur’s  printing-office  and  one  for  the  club- 
room.  *  But  which  should  be  in  front  ?  And 
where  should  the  windows  be  placed,  and  the 
door  ?  How  about  the  shelves  ?  Where  to  put 


EDITORIAL  TRIALS  AND  TRIUMPHS.  23 


the  chimney  ?  What  should  be  the  sign  over 
the  door?  These  are  only  a  few  of  the  great 
questions  the  club  had  to  settle. 

But  in  the  meantime,  while  the  carpenter  was 
building  this  famous  edifice,  Arthur  was  not 
neglecting  his  printing.  Ah,  no !  That  was 
too  satisfactory  a  pursuit  to  neglect  for  a  day. 

The  first  number  of  The  Query  cost  him  a 
vast  amount  of  toil. 

44  At  this  rate,”  he  said,  “it  won’t  be  a  weekly, 
or  even  a  monthly,  —  it  ’ll  be  an  annual !  ” 

For  there  was  so  much  to  learn !  Mr.  Augus¬ 
tine  Drayton  found  it  necessary  to  turn  with 
his  pupil  from  Greek  grammar  to  modern  Eng¬ 
lish  very  often,  for  Arthur  came  almost  every 
hour  with  some  eager  question  about  proof-read¬ 
ing.  “Does  the  question  point  come  after  or 
before  the  quotation  marks  ?  Why  do  they 
put  a  period  after  Roman  numerals  ?  Should  I 
have  a  colon  here,  or  only  a  semi-colon?  Is  it 
better  4  St.’  or  spelled  out,  4  Street  ’  ?  ”  A  dozen 
similar  questions  of  good  form  and  usage  came 
up  every  day.  Arthur  was  catching  Ben’s  pas¬ 
sion  for  thoroughness. 

But  proof-reading  was  easy  compared  with 
type-setting.  First,  Arthur  had  to  44  learn  the 
case,”  and  he  found  it  decidedly  difficult  to  dive 
into  just  the  right  little  box  for  an  m,  an  n,  a  u, 
an  exclamation  point,  or  a  figure  5. 


24 


THE  C  A  XT  ON  CLUB. 


“  If  they  would  only  put  the  small  letters  in 
alphabetical  order,  just  like  the  capitals !  ”  lie 
cried,  until  Ben  showed  him  that  would  be  im¬ 
possible,  because  some  of  the  small  letters  are  used 
so  much  more  than  others.  The  e-box,  for  in¬ 
stance,  must  be  six  times  as  large  as  the  j-box. 

Perhaps  the  most  difficult  part  of  the  type¬ 
setting  was  taking  the  type  from  the  “  com¬ 
posing-stick  ”  and  placing  it  in  the  “  chase.” 
It  needs  a  very  delicate  touch  to  get  the  lines 
of  a  page  equally  tight  in  the  composing-stick 
and  “  spaced  out  ”  to  just  the  right  length,  and 
it  needs  a  strong  hand  and  a  firm  grasp  to  lift 
fifteen  lines  or  so,  with  their  hundreds  of  little 
bits  of  metal,  and  not  drop  one.  And  if  one 
falls,  they  are  all  likely  to  fall  after  it.  How 
Arthur  envied  the  other  two  boys  the  easy  skill 
with  which  they  performed  this  operation  !  To 
gain  it  cost  him  many  a  “  piece  of  pi.” 

But  if  proof-reading  was  hard  and  type-setting 
harder,  the  hardest  of  all  was  the  printing.  The 
ink  must  be  spread  evenly  on  the  roller.  The 
type  must  be  exactly  level.  The  paper  must 
not  slip,  and  it  must  be  well  “  backed-up,”  so 
as  to  “take  an  even  impression.”  It  must  not  blur. 
It  must  be  handled  carefully,  so  as  not  to  be 
crumpled  or  soiled.  It  must  not  “  off-set ;  ”  that  is, 
the  fresh  ink  of  one  sheet  must  not  print  itself  on 
the  blank  page  of  the  sheet  laid  on  top  of  it. 


EDITORIAL  TRIALS  AND  TRIUMPHS.  25 


It  was  a  proud  moment  when  Arthur  could 
take  the  first  number  of  The  Query  down  into 
the  study  and  exhibit  it. 

“  Arthur,  it  is  admirable,”  said  his  father, 
looking  at  his  bright  eyes  and  red  cheeks. 

“  My  dear  boy,  it ’s  just  splendid  !  ”  cried  his 
mother,  smiling  back  to  his  smile. 

44  A  highly  creditable  production,”  declared 
Mr.  Augustine  Drayton,  nodding  at  his  exulting 
pupil. 

44  Tip-top  !  ”  said  the  other  members  of  the 
Caxton  Club. 

Really,  for  a  first  number,  it  was  a  good  bit 
of  work,  and  I  wish  I  could  show  you  a  copy 
right  here.  But  Arthur  soon  got  to  doing  so 
much  better  that  he  was  ashamed  of  his  earlier 
efforts,  and  confiscated  all  he  could  lay  hands 
on. 

When  Arthur  could  print  clean  copies,  he  set 
about  obtaining  subscribers  for  The  Query. 
This  was  not  difficult,  since  the  price  was  only 
twenty-five  cents  a  year,  except  for  the  fact 
that  Arthur  at  that  time  knew  so  very  few  per¬ 
sons  ;  but  all  his  household  had  to  subscribe, 
cook,  coachman,  gardener,  waitress,  and  all.  He 
soon  bethought  himself  to  send  44  sample  copies  ” 
to  all  his  relatives,  and  at  last  he  had  a  subscrip¬ 
tion-list  quite  as  large  as  that  of  The  Humbug 
or  of  The  Learner. 


26 


THE  C A XT  ON  CLUB. 


Soon  after  this  important  event  —  the  regular 
appearance  of  The  Query  —  the  Caxton  Club 
took  possession  of  its  club-house.  Surely  never 
before  did  boys  have  such  a  charming  meeting- 
place.  It  was  a  neat  one-story  building,  with  a 
sloping  roof,  an  abundance  of  windows,  a  porch 
before  the  door,  and  as  it  stood  among  trees  it 
was  painted  the  gayest  of  reds.  Inside,  the 
printing-office  was  fitted  up  with  every  necessity 
of  a  first-class  establishment,  including  an  ex¬ 
cellent  assortment  of  the  most  useful  kinds  of 
type,  selected  by  Ben’s  father.  In  the  rear  was 
the  club-room,  brightly  carpeted,  and  furnished 
with  a  big  round  table,  half  a  dozen  chairs,  a 
desk,  a  book-case,  and  some  attractive  pictures. 

On  taking  possession  they  had  a  little  cele¬ 
bration  —  not  unmixed  with  cake  and  ice-cream. 
But  the  best  part  of  the  celebration  was  some¬ 
thing  Arthur  said  to  Ben. 

“  I  want  you,  old  fellow,”  said  Arthur,  u  to 
take  this  printing-shop  in  partnership  with  me, 
and  just  use  it  as  if  it  were  your  own.  Here  ’s 
one  of  the  keys  to  it ;  and  you  ’ll  do  it,  won’t 
you,  and  get  out  your  paper  on  this  press  instead 
of  at  the  Grraphic  office,  and  everything  ?  Come, 
please  say  you  will !  ” 

And  by  Arthur’s  tone  Ben  knew  that  he 
meant  the  offer  with  all  his  heart. 


27 


“  WHO  IS  LEE  BRANE?” 


V. 

“  WHO  IS  LEE  BRANE  ?  ” 

The  Caxton  Club  had  not  long  enjoyed  its 
fine  quarters  before  it  was  confronted  with  a 
genuine  problem.  It  came  up  in  this  way. 

“  Gentlemen,”  said  President  Caspar,  as  the 
three  Avere  seated  at  their  round  table  looking 
over  the  exchanges,  “  I  have  to  present  to  you 
an  application  for  membership.” 

u  What !  ”  exclaimed  Arthur,  quite  forgetting 
the  proprieties  of  parliamentary  law.  “  Some  one 
wants  to  join  the  Caxton  Club  ?  Who  is  it?  ” 

“  It ’s  Dick  Grimes,”  answered  Caspar,  sud¬ 
denly  descending  from  his  presidential  dignity. 

“  Dick  Grimes  !  ”  Ben  exclaimed.  “  Oh,  he  ’ll 
never  do  !  ” 

“  That ’s  what  I  thought ;  but  he  made  me 
promise  to  propose  his  name.” 

“  What ’s  the  matter  with  Dick  Grimes  ?  ” 
asked  Arthur.  “  Who  is  he,  anyway  ?  ” 

Caspar  answered.  “  He ’s  the  son  of  Mr. 
Grimes,  the  postmaster.  He  runs  a  paper,  too. 
He  calls  it  The  Herald  —  not  a  very  bright  name, 
but  as  bright  as  he  is.  I  don’t  object  to  him 


28 


THE  C A  XT  ON  CLUB. 


because  he  is  n’t  bright,  though,  for  I ’m  not 
bright  myself ;  but  he ’s  a  mean,  underhand  boy. 
He  plagues  the  girls,  and  he  is  ugly  to  the  small 
boys,  and  he  plays  silly  tricks  in  school,  and  he 
smokes  cigarettes  and  —  swears.” 

“Well,”  said  Arthur  with  emphasis,  “  the 
Caxton  Club  does  n’t  want  to  have  anything  to 
do  with  him.” 

“  Of  course  not,”  Ben  agreed  ;  and  Caspar  was 
authorized  to  give  Dick  the  disagreeable  infor¬ 
mation. 

“  He ’d  have  added  one  more  letter,  though,  to 
our  alphabet  —  A,  Arthur  ;  B,  Ben ;  C,  Caspar ; 
D,  Dick ;  ”  said  Caspar,  half  regretfully. 

u  No,”  answered  Ben,  “for  his  real  name  is 
R,  Richard.” 

“Then  we  ’ll  not  consider  him,”  said  Caspar, 
“at  least,  till  we  have  filled  up  the  alphabet 
toR.” 

That  was  what  Caspar  actually  did  tell  Dick ; 
and  the  whole  affair  had  some  very  exciting  and 
important  results,  which  I  shall  relate  farther  on. 

I  said  that  when  this  question  came  up  the 
boys  were  sitting  around  the  table  in  their  club- 
room,  reading  exchanges  ;  for  both  Ben’s  Learner 
and  Caspar’s  Humbug  had  a  goodly  list  of  papers 
which  they  received  in  exchange,  and  Arthur 
was  not  slow  to  imitate  them  and  obtain  an  “  ex¬ 
change  list”  of  his  own. 


29 


“  WHO  IS  LEE  BRANE ?” 

I  wonder  how  many  of  my  readers  have  ever 
heard  of  the  N.A.P.A.  ?  It  will  be  necessary 
for  them  to  understand  what  that  important  or¬ 
ganization  is. 

Be  it  known,  therefore,  that  in  these  United 
States  are  hundreds  of  boys,  who,  like  our  A,  B, 
C,  are  printing  little  papers,  partly  for  fun  and 
partly  for  the  training  they  thus  get  in  the  arts 
of  printing  and  writing.  They  call  themselves 
44  amateurs,”  as  distinguished  from  the  44  profes¬ 
sionals  ”  who  run  papers  for  a  livelihood.  I 
myself  was  an  44  amateur  ”  when  a  boy,  and  I  am 
now  a  44  professional.”  Scores  of  others  have 
taken  the  same  course. 

These  hundreds  of  boys  have  organized  them¬ 
selves  into  the  National  Amateur  Press  Asso¬ 
ciation,  or  N.A.P.A.  This  association  lias 
members  all  over  the  United  States.  It  holds 
national  meetings,  usually  in  some  large  city. 
The  boys  attend,  often  in  considerable  numbers. 
They  listen  to  essays  regarding  their  work,  and 
they  hold  profound  discussions.  Especially,  they 
elect  their  national  officers.  In  preparation  for 
the  latter  event,  the  most  animated  debate  has 
been  conducted  during  the  preceding  year  by  all 
the  amateur  papers,  each  with  its  favorite  candi¬ 
date.  Indeed,  no  sooner  is  one  president  installed 
than  the  entire  amateur  world  is  at  ears  over  the 
question  as  to  who  shall  be  his  successor. 


30 


THE  C  A  XT  ON  CLUB. 


The  Caxton  Club  had  the  pleasant  habit  of 
meeting  to  open  their  week’s  exchanges  together. 
What  excitement  there  was  as  the  three  piles  of 
yellow-wrapped  papers  were  laid  on  the  table, 
and  one  after  another  was  freed  from  its  crinkly 
envelope ! 

“  Here ’s  a  new  one  !  ”  Caspar  cried  ;  “  and  — 
of  —  all  —  things  !  ” 

He  held  up  a  tiny  sheet,  only  three  inches 
square,  —  The  Dot. 

Each  of  the  other  boys  found  a  copy  among 
his  exchanges,  marked  with  a  blue  X,  which  is 
equivalent  to  a  request  for  an  exchange. 

“  And  here ’s  another  new  one  !  ”  shouted  Ben. 
“  A  bright  idea  !  ”  And  he  held  up  for  admira¬ 
tion  a  copy  of  The  Brown  Study,  printed  on  brown 
wrapping-paper,  and  full  of  funny  sayings. 

“  The  Stylus ,”  remarked  Arthur,  “  is  larger 
than  usual  this  month.”  He  passed  around  his 
copy  of  a  paper  which  was  the  special  delight  of 
all  of  them,  for  its  elegant  printing  and  the  polish 
and  force  of  the  editor’s  writing.  It  was  pub¬ 
lished  in  Boston,  and  these  Ohio  boys  looked 
upon  it  as  embodying  all  the  literary  glories  of 
the  Modern  Athens. 

“  Splendid  !  ”  Caspar  declared,  examining  it. 
“  They  are  beginning  to  use  illustrations,  too. 
What  enterprise  they  have  !  And  they  have  an 
article  by  Lee  Brane !  ” 


31 


“  WHO  IS  LEE  BRANE?” 

“  Is  that  so  ?  ”  Arthur  asked.  “  Let ’s  see  it. 
He ’s  the  best  writer  in  all  the  N.A.P.A.,  I 
think.  Don’t  you,  Ben  ?  ” 

“No,  indeed,”  Ben  answered. 

“Well,  I  agree  with  Arthur,”  said  Caspar. 
“  Lee  Brane  is  always  level-headed,  and  he  al¬ 
ways  says  something,  and  puts  it  in  such  a  way 
that  you  ’ll  remember  it.  And  he  writes  for  so 
many  papers,  too  !  He  must  be  an  industrious 
fellow.” 

“  Here ’s  an  editorial  about  him,”  Arthur 
said,  glancing  over  a  copy  of  The  Illinois  Item , 
“  nominating  him  for  president  of  the  N.A.P.A. 
He  ’d  make  a  good  one.  Why  —  why  —  why 
—  ee  !  Just  listen,  fellows  !  ”  And  Arthur  read  : 

“We  believe  that  in  all  the  range  of  Ama- 
teurdom  no  writer  can  be  found  who  is  the 
equal  of  Lee  Brane.  The  N.A.P.A.  would 
honor  itself  in  honoring  him.  The  professional 
world  will  welcome  him  some  day.  The  Item 
is  proud  to  be  the  first  to  put  his  name  in  nomi¬ 
nation  for  presidency.  Probably  if  he  did  not 
live  in  the  small  and  somewhat  obscure  town  of 
Gardner,  Ohio,  he  would  have  been  nominated 
long  ago  by  a  dozen  journals.” 

“  There ’s  no  one  named  Lee  Brane  in  this 
town  !  ”  declared  Ben. 

“No  ;  and  so  it  must  be  a  pen-name,”  Caspar 
thoughtfully  added.  “  Who  can  it  be?  ” 


32 


THE  C A  XT  ON  CLUB. 


“  It  could  n’t  —  it  could  n’t  possibly  be  Dick 
Grimes  ?  ”  asked  Arthur,  anxiously. 

u  Absurd  !  ”  laughed  Caspar.  “  Why,  Dick 
could  no  more  write  one  of  Lee  Brane’s  articles 
than  he  could  eat  his  own  head !  ”  That  was  a 
favorite  comparison  of  Caspar’s,  and  sufficiently 
conclusive. 

“  But  there  is  no  other  boy  in  town  running 
an  amateur  paper,  is  there  ?  ”  Arthur  asked. 

“  Not  unless  he ’s  doing  it  in  secret,”  answered 
Caspar.  “  See  here  ;  I  know  the  handwriting 
of  all  the  Gardner  boys ,  and  I ’m  going  to  write 
and  ask  Lee  Brane  for  an  article.  That  may 
give  us  a  clew.” 

“  I  ’ll  do  the  same,”  said  Arthur. 

“  And  I,”  said  Ben. 

This  they  did  ;  and  at  the  meeting  of  the  club 
a  fortnight  hence  they  all  had  manuscripts  from 
Lee  Brane  to  exhibit. 

And  every  word  —  even  the  name  —  was  type¬ 
written  ! 


THE  FEEBLE  EFFORT. 


33 


VI. 

THE  FEEBLE  EFFORT. 

One  Saturday  afternoon  Arthur  was  sitting 
in  his  “  sanctum,”  as  he  was  fond  of  calling  the 
front  room  of  the  club-house,  when  there  came 
a  modest  tap  at  the  door.  On  opening  it,  Arthur 
found  there  a  tiny  old  lady,  whose  face  was 
covered  by  a  thick  veil. 

“  Is  this  the  editor  of  The  Query  ?  ”  she 
asked,  in  a  quavering  voice. 

“  I  am  the  editor  of  The  Query”  Arthur 
replied,  with  sudden  dignity.  “Walk  in, 
please.” 

The  little  old  lady  entered  and  took  the  chair 
that  Arthur  politely  handed  her.  Then  she 
fumbled  in  a  small,  old-fashioned  reticule  and 
brought  out  a  neatly  folded  sheet  of  paper. 

“  I  have  a  little  poem  here,”  she  said,  “  which 
I  wrote  myself.  I  am  a  poetess,  you  know.  You 
have  heard  of  me,  have  n’t  you,  sir  ?  ” 

Arthur  never  had,  but  he  was  too  polite  to 
say  so,  and  so  stammered  and  grew  red  in  the 
face.  But  the  little  old  lady  went  on  without 
noticing  him. 


34 


THE  CAXTON  CLUB. 


“  The  critics  say  that  my  recent  poems  have 
been  very  fine.  You  think  so,  don’t  you,  sir?  ” 

Arthur  was  more  embarrassed  than  before, 
but  his  visitor  went  serenely  on. 

“  This  poem  is  on  spring.  The  lovely  violets 
suggested  it.  Have  you  seen  any  violets  yet, 
sir?” 

Arthur  was  glad  to  be  able  to  say  that  he  had. 

“  Then  you  will  understand  what  a  gush  of 
feeling  came  over  me  when  I  saw  the  first 
spring  violets.  So  I  wrote  this  poem.  May  I 
read  it  to  you,  sir?” 

“  Certainly,”  said  polite  Arthur. 

The  poetess  cleared  her  throat  and  began  : 

POEM  ON  SPRING. 

u  0  lovely  Spring,  with  violets  and  such, 

With  dandelions,  buttercups,  and  Dutch- 
Man’s  breeches,  and  with  balmy  breezes  too, 

I  take  my  pen  in  hand  to  write  on  you, 

0  lovely  Spring ! 

“  0  lovely  Spring,  so  beautiful  and  fair, 

With  clover,  cowslip,  cress,  and  maidenhair. 

The  cows  are  happy,  hear  their  gentle  moos  ; 

Both  they  and  I  of  all  the  seasons  choose 
You,  lovely  Spring ! 

u  0  lovely  Spring,  praised  up  by  every  tongue, 

By  Milton,  Lowell,  me,  and  Shakespeare  sung, 

How  very  proud  and  thankful  you  must  be, 

Especially  to  be  writ  up  by  me, 

O  lovely  spring  !  ” 


THE  FEEBLE  EFFORT. 


35 


“Isn’t  that  be-e-etmtiful  ?  ”  asked  the  little 
old  lady,  looking  up. 

Arthur  was  choking  with  silent  laughter,  hut 
this  question  sobered  him.  What  should  he 
say  ?  Luckily,  the  poetess  did  n’t  pause  for  him 
to  say  anything. 

“  Of  course  you  want  to  print  it  in  The 
Query”  she  said,  “  and  I  ’ll  let  you.  And  I  won’t 
charge  you  anything  for  it,  as  I  understand  that 
you  are  just  beginning,  and  I  like  to  help  begin¬ 
ners  along.  Of  course,  you  realize  that  it  gives 
quite  a  reputation  to  a  paper  to  publish  one  of 
my  pieces.” 

“Does  it?”  the  editor  of  The  Query  man¬ 
aged  to  say. 

“  Of  course  it  does !  ”  the  visitor  answered 
sternly. 

But  Arthur  had  a  bright  idea.  “If  you  will 
please  put  your  address  on  the  poem,”  he  said, 
“  I  will  look  it  over  carefully,  and  I  will  return 
it  promptly  if  I  see  that  I  cannot  find  space  for  it.” 

“  Oh,  but  you  ’ll  make  room  for  it !  ”  answered 
the  old  lady.  However,  she  wrote  upon  the 
manuscript  with  a  stubby  pencil,  made  a  funny 
little  courtesy,  and  trotted  away. 

Not  long  afterward  the  rest  of  the  Caxton 
Club  came  in,  and  Arthur  in  high  glee  told  his 
experience.  “  My  first  spring  poet !  ”  he  crowed. 
“  But  I  slid  her  out  neatly,  did  n’t  I  ?  ” 


86 


THE  C  A  XT ON  CLUB. 


“  An  editor  of  twenty  years’  standing  couldn’t 
have  done  it  better,”  answered  Ben. 

“  Read  the  poem,”  Caspar  demanded,  and 
chuckled  over  the  verses  as  Arthur  read  them. 

“  What ’s  her  name  ?  ”  asked  both  the  boys 
at  the  close. 

Arthur  looked  at  the  pencilled  words,  and 
burst  into  a  shout  of  merriment. 

“Sold!  Sold!  ”  he  cried.  “And  who  would 
ever  have  thought  it  of  her?” 

On  the  manuscript  was  written  simply,  “  Kate 
Earle,  April  1.” 

“Well,”  said  Ben  and  Caspar,  “Kate  has 
fooled  us,  as  well  as  you.  We’ve  been  playing 
April-fool  tricks  all  day,  but  we  never  once  sus¬ 
pected  this!  We  saw  her  as  she  came  out  of 
the  grounds.” 

Kate  Earle  was  a  very  bright  sister  to  have. 
Ben  thought  so,  and  it  was  not  long  before  he 
brought  before  the  Caxton  Club  another  evi¬ 
dence  of  her  brightness. 

It  seems  that  Kate  had  asked  him  one  day, 
jestingly,  why  there  were  no  girls  in  the  club ; 
and  he  had  answered,  half  in  fun  and  half  in 
earnest,  that  girls  could  n’t  get  out  a  paper,  and 
it  would  be  a  feeble  effort  if  they  did. 

In  high  glee,  therefore,  Ben  exhibited  at  one 
of  the  club’s  Saturday  councils  a  copy  of  what 
he  called  a  “  brand-new  exchange.” 


THE  FEEBLE  EFFORT. 


37 


“  1  ’m  ahead  of  you  here,  fellows,”  he  boasted. 
“  You  can’t  get  this  on  your  exchange  list,  for 
there ’s  only  one  copy  printed,  and  The  Learner 
is  proud  to  have  that.” 

Accordingly  he  placed  before  Arthur  and 
Caspar  the  new  journal. 

THE  FEEBLE  EFFORT. 


Vol.  1.  Gardner,  0.,  April  22,  1890.  No.  1. 

Introductory . 

This  journal  is  a  feeble  effort.  It 
does  not  pretend  to  be  anything  else;  and 
it  does  not  suppose  it  possible  to  be  any¬ 
thing  else.  For  it  is  edited  by  a  girl. 

In  its  poor,  feeble  way,  it  will  look 
at  events  and  things,  and  give  its  opinion 
upon  them  with  what  force  it  can  muster. 

It  has  no  fighting  editor,  for  girls 
cannot  bear  arms.  And  no  managing  editor, 
for  girls  cannot  manage.  And  no  sporting 
editor,  for  girls  know  nothing  about  horse 
races  and  prize  fights.  And  no  editor-in- 
chief,  for  how  could  a  girl  be  anything  but 
a  subordinate? 

It  has  not  got  it  through  its  feeble 
intellect  just  how  it  is  to  be  edited,  but 
in  some  insipid  way  or  other  it  will  appear 
monthly,  or  as  near  monthly  as  the  maker  of 
The  Feeble  Effort  can  manage  it. 

KATE  EARLE. 

That  was  the  introduction,  and  the  rest  of  the 


38 


THE  CAXTON  CLUB. 


paper  corresponded.  It  was  witty  and  sharp, 
sensible  and  forcible,  and  was  altogether  a  piece 
of  excellent  writing  for  such  a  young  girl.  It 
was  all  typewritten,  for  Kate  had  access  to  no 
printing-press,  but  her  father  let  her  use  his 
typewriter.  It  was  complete,  with  editorials, 
contributed  articles,  departments,  news  items, 
and  advertisements.  In  short,  The  Feeble  Fffort 
was  anything  but  feeble. 

“  Kate  ought  to  be  a  member  of  the  Caxton 
Club !  ”  cried  Arthur. 

“  If  she  only  had  a  press,  what  an  editor  she 
would  be  !  ”  cried  Caspar. 

It  was  not  long  before,  in  the  upsetting  of  the 
affairs  of  the  club  about  which  I  shall  have  to 
tell  you,  Kate  found  a  place,  and  filled  it  well. 
For  now  I  must  hurry  on  to  a  series  of  exciting 
events,  that  changed  the  lives  of  all  my  three 
heroes  and  entirely  revolutionized  the  Caxton 
Club. 


THE  GREAT  JOURNALISTIC  TRUST.  39 


VII. 

THE  GREAT  JOURNALISTIC  TRUST. 

Dick  Grimes  was  not  a  boy  that  coulcl  be 
slighted  with  safety.  His  father,  you  will  re¬ 
member,  was  the  village  postmaster,  and  he  was 
as  revengeful  as  his  son.  When  Dick  told  him 
of  his  rejection  by  the  Caxton  Club,  Mr.  Grimes 
was  furious.  “  I  ’ll  fix  these  boys  !  ”  he  declared, 
with  an  ugly  smile. 

And  he  did,  in  a  way  they  little  expected. 

The  members  of  the  Caxton  Club  assembled 
one  Saturday  afternoon  with  wrath  and  dismtiy 
upon  their  faces.  Each  had  a  letter  in  his  hand, 
a  communication  marked  “Official  Business,” 
from  the  postmaster.  Arthur’s  letter  was  a  curt 
refusal  of  his  recent  request  to  be  admitted  to 
the  privileges  of  second-class  mail  matter.  Ben’s, 
and  Caspar’s  also,  was  an  equally  curt  statement 
that  The  Humbug  and  The  Learner  would  no 
longer  be  considered  eligible  under  the  same 
class. 

“  Second-class  rates  ”  are  the  very  low  rates 
of  one  cent  a  pound,  granted  to  publishers  upon 
their  periodicals.  Newspapers  that  are  not  given 


40 


THE  CAXTON  CLUB. 


these  “pound  rates”  must  be  paid  for  at  the 
much  higher  rate  of  one  cent  for  each  four 
ounces. 

“  I  Ve  been  to  see  him,”  said  Arthur. 

“  So ’ve  I.” 

“  And  I.” 

“  He  showed  me  a  letter  from  the  third  assist¬ 
ant  postmaster-general  at  Washington,  saying 
that  our  subscription  lists  were  too  small,  and 
the  number  of  free  copies  too  large,  to  warrant 
putting  us  in  the  second  class.” 

“  Showed  it  to  me.” 

“  And  me.” 

“Of  course  the  Washington  authorities  based 
their  decision  on  what  Mr.  Grimes  chose  to  tell 
them,”  said  Caspar. 

“  Why  shouldn’t  we  write  to  the  third  assist¬ 
ant  postmaster-general,  and  protest  ?  ”  Arthur 
asked. 

“  What  good  would  it  do  ?  ”  Ben  inquired.  “  I 
suppose  it ’s  true  that  we  have  only  a  few  sub¬ 
scribers  and  a  lot  of  free  copies,  exchanges  and 
so  on.  What  I  don’t  like  is  drawing  the  line 
on  us  just  for  spite.  Every  other  amateur 
paper  in  the  country  is  carried  at  the  pound 
rate.” 

That  was  the  sting.  Mr.  Grimes  had  not 
damaged  the  boys  much  in  their  pocketbooks, 
for  the  difference  in  postage  would  be  little  on 


THE  GREAT  JOURNALISTIC  TRUST.  41 


tlieir  tiny  editions ;  but  he  had  hurt  them  sorely 
in  their  journalistic  pride.  It  means  much  to  an 
44  amateur,”  a  member  of  the  N.A.P.A.,  that  he 
is  able  to  print  on  his  front  page,  just  like  The 
Tribune  or  The  Herald : 

44  Entered  as  second-class  mail  matter  at  the 
post-office  at  Gardner,  O.” 

And  really,  since  the  supposedly  low  news¬ 
paper  rates  were  established  to  aid  the  education 
of  the  people,  there  is  no  reason  why  they  should 
not  be  granted  to  boys’  papers,  in  spite  of  their 
small  subscription  lists  and  large  exchange  lists. 
They  are  as  able  an  aid  to  education,  I  am  sure, 
at  least  for  boys,  as  half  the  newspapers  that 
enjoy  the  44  pound  rates  ”  without  question  ! 

44  What  we  need  to  do,”  said  Ben,  after  they 
had  talked  over  the  matter  angrily  for  some  time, 
44  is  to  get  larger  subscription  lists.  Then  we 
could  appeal  to  Washington  and  gain  the  day.” 

44  But  how  can  we  get  larger  subscription 
lists  ?  ”  asked  Caspar.  44 1 ’m  sure  I  can’t  bully 
any  one  else  into  taking  The  Humbug .” 

44  And  I  can’t  persuade  any  one  else  to  take 
The  Query”  sighed  Arthur,  44  except  as  a  gift ; 
and  that  would  n’t  mend  matters.” 

Then  it  was  that  Ben  proposed  the  Great 
Journalistic  Trust. 

44 1  ’ye  been  thinking  for  some  time,  boys,”  he 
said,  44  that  it  would  be  a  capital  plan  for  us  to 


42 


THE  C  A  XT  ON  CLUB. 


combine  forces,  subscription  lists  and  all,  and 
publish  only  one  paper.  We  could  make  it  shine, 
among  us.” 

“  Hurrah  !  Hurrah !  ”  shouted  Arthur  and 
Caspar,  waving  sheets  of  paper  at  the  editor  of 
The  Learner.  “  Great  mind,  Ben  !  ” 

The  idea  was  entertained  with  increasing  en- 
thusiasin  the  more  the  boys  discussed  it. 

“We  could  make  it  eight  pages  !  ” 

u  We  could  have  a  picture  every  month  !  ” 

“We  could  get  contributions  that  would 
count ! ” 

“We  could  be  an  influence  in  the  N.A.P.A.” 

“  And  in  the  town  !  ” 

“Boys,”  said  Ben  at  that,  his  eyes  eager,  “I 
think  that  ’«  what  we  want  to  look  after  —  to 
be  an  influence  in  the  town !  I  have  read  that 
the  papers  that  succeed  are  those  that  set  out 
to  do  things.  Now,  if  we  really  try  to  accom¬ 
plish  something  here  in  Gardner,  people  will  be¬ 
gin  to  talk  about  the  paper,  and  then  they  ’ll 
begin  to  subscribe  for  it.” 

“  And  there  are  enough  things  in  Gardner 
that  need  reforming,  I  ’m  sure,”  remarked  Caspar. 

Then  Arthur  made  his  great  contribution. 
“Why  not  call  it  The  Reformer ?”  he  asked. 

“  The  very  name  !  ”  Ben  cried.  “  I ’ve  been 
trying  to  think  of  a  good  name,  and  you ’ve  just 
hit  it !  ” 


THE  GREAT  JOURNALISTIC  TRUST.  43 


Arthur  beamed  with  pride,  and  ventured  an¬ 
other  suggestion : 

“  Then  why  not  add  Kate  to  our  list  of  edi¬ 
tors  ?  She  could  n’t  set  type,  I  suppose,  though 
I  ’m  not  so  sure  of  that,  either ;  but  she  can 
write  capitally.” 

“  And  she  can  get  subscribers,”  added  Cas¬ 
par. 

u  It ’s  a  vote  !  ”  declared  Arthur,  quite  for- 
gotting  that  he  was  n’t  the  president  of  the 
club. 

Thus  another  important  matter  was  settled, 
and  Kate  Earle  became  the  fourth  member. 

u  Only  it ’s  too  bad  you  are  not  a  D,”  said 
Caspar,  at  the  first  meeting  when  Editor  Kate 
was  present. 

“  I  am  a  D,”  Kate  answered  brightly ;  “Cath¬ 
erine  Davenport  Earle  !  ” 


44 


THE  CAXTON  CLUB. 


VIII. 

THE  REFORM  CAMPAIGN. 

The  plans  of  the  Caxton  Club  met  with 
prompt  success.  The  very  name  of  the  new 
paper  was  so  audacious  that  it  won  people’s 
attention. 

A  great  many  laughed  at  it.  “  Those  boys 
are  delightfully  conceited,”  they  said,  “  to  be  set¬ 
ting  themselves  up  as  reformers  !  ” 

The  criticism  was  a  just  one,  as  the  Club 
found  out  by  a  bitter  experience. 

However,  there  were  really  many  points  in 
the  village  life  of  Gardner  that  needed  improve¬ 
ment,  and  the  boys  —  and  the  girl  —  wrote  con¬ 
cerning  them  vigorously.  They  had  the  good 
sense  to  ask  the  advice  and  win  the  cooperation 
of  their  elders.  Mr.  Colton  joined  the  editorial 
conferences  now  and  then,  and  the  boys  found 
in  him  a  very  practical  assistant. 

“  Take  the  streets  of  Gardner,”  said  he,  at  the 
start.  “  Why,  they  are  in  a  disgraceful  condi¬ 
tion.  Great  ruts  are  everywhere,  the  gutters  are 
waist-high  with  weeds,  the  roads  are  unsafe  for 
bicycles  and  very  uncomfortable  for  carriages.” 


THE  REFORM  CAMPAIGN. 


45 


At  his  suggestion  the  boys  interviewed  a 
dozen  of  the  leading  men  of  the  place  and  got 
their  opinions  about  the  Gardner  streets,  also 
their  recommendations  for  improvements.  Then 
the  Caxton  Club  devoted  the  entire  first  number 
of  The  Reformer  to  the  subject,  quoting  largely 
from  authorities  on  roadmaking,  and  backing  up 
their  statements  with  the  interviews. 

The  Grardner  Grraphie  was  owned  by  Mr. 
Grimes  and  one  or  two  other  men  like  him  —  men 
who  “  ran  ”  the  politics  of  the  town,  and  largely 
profited  from  the  lax  management  of  public  af¬ 
fairs.  Gardner,  therefore,  had  never  before  been 
treated  to  any  frank  and  fearless  discussion  of 
the  question  of  good  roads,  and  the  whole  town 
thoroughly  enjoyed  the  novelty. 

“  Seen  what  the  boys  are  up  to?”  was  the 
question  at  the  groceries,  the  drug  stores,  the 
railroad  station,  and  the  post-office,  wherever 
men  were  in  the  habit  of  lounging. 

Then  the  speaker  would  produce  from  his 
pocket  a  worn  copy  of  The  Reformer ,  Vol.  I., 
No.  1,  and  read  a  paragraph  from  some  bright 
editorial,  or  the  opinion  of  the  Methodist  min¬ 
ister,  or  the  sarcastic  remark  of  President  Grace, 
all  “  giving  it  ”  to  the  village  street  commis¬ 
sioners.  Every  one  likes  to  read  what  is  bold, 
positive,  determined  —  writing  that  has  a  cour¬ 
ageous  purpose  back  of  it ;  and  it  is  safe  to  say 


46 


THE  CAXTON  CLUB . 


that  every  adult  in  Gardner  read  that  number 
of  the  The  Reformer. 

For  the  Caxton  Club  sent  out  sample  num¬ 
bers  freely,  instructing  Mr.  Grimes  (who  was 
sour  enough  about  it)  to  put  a  copy  in  every 
box  in  the  post-office.  He  was  sharp  enough  in 
turn  about  the  one-cent  stamp  on  every  copy  of 
the  paper  ;  but  the  club  expected  to  get  its  money 
back  in  subscriptions. 

It  was  not  long  before  Kate  was  unanimously 
chosen  subscription  agent  of  the  new  venture. 
Elated  at  her  election  to  the  club,  that  lassie 
was  bent  on  being  of  service.  She  carried  a 
copy  of  The  Reformer  with  her  wherever  she 
went,  and  “  tackled  ”  as  the  boys  called  it, 
“  every  man,  woman,  child,  and  cow  on  the 
street.”  Her  face  was  so  bright  and  her  argu¬ 
ments  were  so  ready,  and,  best  of  all,  the  paper 
itself  was  so  good,  that  the  quarter-dollars  flew 
out  of  pockets,  and  every  week  she  handed  over 
to  Treasurer  Colton  a  goodly  sum. 

The  second  number  of  The  Reformer  took  for 
its  subject  a  matter  which  was  agreed  upon  by 
the  club  only  after  long  discussion  —  the  vil¬ 
lage  post-office,  and  the  way  it  was  conducted. 

“  Mr.  Grimes  will  say  we  did  it  out  of 
revenge,”  was  Ben’s  warning. 

“  Well,  let  him,”  answered  Caspar  ;  “  there  is 
a  little  revenge  in  it,  I  admit,  but  we  have  a 


THE  REFORM  CAMPAIGN. 


47 


right  to  he  indignant  at  him.  And,  any  way, 
the  post-office  is  run  so  poorly  that  we  should 
have  had  to  take  it  up  even  if  Mr.  Grimes  had 
treated  us  decently.” 

So  at  last  they  decided  to  carry  the  war  into 
this  domain  of  Uncle  Sam’s,  though  I  think 
that  none  of  them  felt  quite  easy  in  mind  about 
it,  and  all  of  them  feared  it  would  have  the 
aspect  of  mere  revenge.  The  result  quite  justi¬ 
fied  their  uneasiness. 

But  this  second  issue  was  a  good  number, 
even  better  than  the  first.  The  Gardner  post- 
office  certainly  was  in  a  bad  condition.  For 
years  it  had  been  looked  upon  as  the  spoils  of 
party  victories.  If  the  Republicans  elected  a 
president,  the  Democratic  postmaster  was  routed 
out  and  a  Republican  installed ;  and  as  soon  as 
the  Democrats  gained  the  day  in  a  national  elec¬ 
tion,  the  position  was  speedily  reversed.  There 
was  no  inducement,  therefore,  for  a  worthy  man 
to  take  the  place. 

Postmaster  Grimes,  like  his  predecessors,  spent 
only  a  small  part  of  his  time  at  the  office,  and 
hired  cheap  and  ignorant  assistants.  Mails  were 
carelessly  assorted  and  still  more  carelessly  de¬ 
livered.  Mistakes  in  money  orders  were  fre¬ 
quent  and  mischievous.  Valuable  letters  were 
given  to  the  wrong  persons,  opened,  and  sent 
to  their  owners  only  after  vexatious  delays. 


48 


THE  C  A XT  ON  CLUB. 


Papers  and  magazines  were  crumpled  and  soiled. 
Special  delivery  letters  were  delivered  —  after 
Dick  got  out  of  school.  The  office  was  kept  in 
a  most  slovenly  condition,  foul  with  tobacco 
smoke,  and  full  of  loud-voiced  loafers.  There 
were  even  rumors  of  the  opening  of  letters  con¬ 
taining  money  and  the  theft  of  their  contents. 
Throughout  his  whole  term  Mr.  Grimes  and  his 

o 

subordinates  had  maintained  an  air  of  insolence 
and  incivility  that  was  unendurable.  There 
had  been  frequent  threats  of  complaint  to  Wash¬ 
ington,  but  no  one  had  cared  to  take  the  lead. 

It  may  be  imagined,  therefore,  how  joyfully 
the  second  number  of  The  Reformer  was  re¬ 
ceived.  What  matter  if  it  was  edited  by  three 
boys  and  a  girl?  It  voiced  with  decision  the 
long-pent  feelings  of  the  town.  It  assailed  a 
foe  to  the  public  welfare. 

Nor  was  it  entirely  the  work  of  three  boys 
and  a  girl,  by  any  means.  Pursuing  the  same 
policy  as  before,  Ben  and  his  associates  had 
obtained  expressions  of  opinion  from  many  men 
and  women.  This  matter  was  more  personal 
than  the  street-reform,  and  only  the  more  coura¬ 
geous  were  willing  that  their  names  should  be 
used ;  but  the  editors  grouped  the  contributions 
effectively  under  the  headings :  “  Interviews 

with  Leading  Merchants,”  “  What  our  Profes¬ 
sional  Men  Think  about  It,”  “  The  Judgment 


THE  REFORM  CAMPAIGN. 


49 


of  Representative  Women,”  and  the  like;  and 
there  were  enough  signed  articles  to  give  to  the 
protest  the  power  of  personal  influence. 

Every  one  in  town,  except,  the  “political 
machine,”  the  postmaster,  and  his  immediate 
followers,  was  full  of  satisfaction.  But  Mr. 
Grimes  and  Dick  were  raging.  None  of  the 
Caxton  Club  could  enter  the  post-office  without 
meeting  with  abuse  and  sneers.  Finally,  three 
days  after  the  publication  of  the  number,  the 
counter-blow  fell. 

It  was  Arthur’s  custom,  early  ev6ry  morning, 
to  snatch  a  few  minutes  before  breakfast  to  run 
down  the  lawn  and  take  a  peep  into  his  beloved 
“  sanctum.”  So  greatly  had  the  manly  work 
transformed  him  that  he  no  longer  showed  or 
felt  a  trace  of  the  old  listlessness. 

With  a  bound  and  a  leap,  on  this  particular 
May  morning,  he  reached  the  door  of  the  club¬ 
house.  But  he  stopped  short  in  dismay.  The 
pretty  sign,  “  The  Caxton  Club,”  which  had 
swung  in  dainty  white  and  gold  over  the  door, 
was  wrenched  from  its  fastenings  and  lay,  a  pile 
of  splinters,  on  the  ground. 

His  heart  beating  hard,  Arthur  opened  the 
door,  looked  in,  and  gave  a  cry  of  horror.  The 
entire  building  was  a  wreck ! 


50 


THE  C  A XT  ON  CLUB . 


IX. 

THE  WOE  OF  THE  LITTLE  RED  CLUB-HOUSE. 

It  was  indeed  a  wretched  sight  that  Arthur 
saw. 

The  window,  by  which  entrance  had  been 
made,  lay  on  the  floor,  the  glass  in  fragments. 
On  the  floor  also,  in  an  indescribable  confusion, 
was  the  broken  office  furniture.  The  type 
drawers  had  been  pulled  out,  overturned,  tram¬ 
pled  on,  the  precious  types  flung  in  handfuls 
here  and  there.  Countless  bits  of  lead  littered 
the  room.  The  ink-can  had  been  seized,  and  its 
contents  smeared  over  the  walls.  Paper  of  all 
kinds  had  been  torn  up  or  crumpled  up.  Most 
appalling  of  all,  the  beautiful  press,  the  Ben 
Franklin,  the  pride  of  Arthur’s  heart,  had  been 
wrenched  from  its  place,  overthrown,  and 
twisted  and  battered  till  it  was  almost  unrecog¬ 
nizable. 

Giving  one  heartbroken  glance  around,  Arthur 
made  his  way  over  all  this  ruin  to  the  inner 
room,  the  meeting-place  of  the  Caxton  Club. 

Here,  if  possible,  the  destruction  was  still 
more  thorough.  The  costly  table  was  splintered 


WOE  OF  LITTLE  RED  CLUB-HOUSE .  51 


and  its  legs  were  torn  off.  The  pictures  lay  on 
the  floor,  mere  mangled  remnants.  The  shelves 
were  torn  down,  and  fragments  of  mutilated 
books  had  been  tossed  here  and  there.  Not  a 
chair  in  the  room  but  was  smashed.  The  ink- 
bottles  had  been  thrown  at  the  neatly  papered 
wall,  and  great  black  spots  were  the  result.  The 
desk  was  upset  and  demolished.  Not  a  hint 
remained  of  the  glory  of  the  Caxton  Club. 

Arthur  rushed  to  the  house,  every  breath 
coming  very  much  like  a  sob.  Poor  fellow !  It 
was  his  first  taste  of  opposition.  Until  that 
time  he  had  never  known,  in  all  his  protected 
life,  the  bitterness  of  an  enemy. 

Speedily  his  father  and  his  mother  made  their 
way  out  to  the  little  red  club-house,  with  excla¬ 
mations  of  sympathy.  Mr.  Augustine  Drayton 
appeared  too,  especially  indignant  at  the  wanton 
destruction  of  so  many  books.  The  coachman 
came  running  up  from  the  stable,  and  cook  and 
maids  came  running  down  from  the  house,  and 
all  looked  in  at  the  door  with  horrified  faces. 

Mr.  Colton  went  back  to  the  house  presently 
and  telephoned  orders  for  a  detective  to  be  sent 
from  the  nearest  city.  He  suspected  that  Dick 
Grimes  was  at  the  bottom  of  the  outrage ;  for 
Arthur  had  told  him  how  Dick’s  application  for 
membership  in  the  club  had  been  refused,  and 
how  Mr.  Grimes  had  retaliated  by  depriving  the 


OMiVtHSITY  OF  lUmSK 

LIBRARY 


52 


THE  C  A  XT  ON  CLUB . 


boys  of  their  newspaper  mailing  rates.  Mr. 
Colton  had  seen  the  last  number  of  The  Re¬ 
former,  and  he  judged  that  it  had  been  the  final 
spark  that  had  caused  Dick’s  rage  to  burst  into 
flame. 

In  the  meantime,  too  excited  to  think  of  break¬ 
fast,  Arthur  was  speeding  to  the  homes  of  the 
other  members  of  the  Caxton  Club  and  sum¬ 
moning  them  to  the  scene  of  ruin. 

O 

Kate  and  Caspar  were  loud  in  their  indigna¬ 
tion,  but  Ben  took  the  matter  philosophically. 
u  It ’s  just  what  all  radical  reformers  have  had  to 
meet,”  he  said.  “  I  begin  to  feel  a  little  like 
Lovejoy  and  Garrison.” 

As  the  news  got  out,  the  entire  village  joined 
in  the  indignation  —  all,  that  is,  except  those 
whose  opposition  The  Reformer  had  already 
aroused. 

The  members  of  the  Caxton  Club  did  not  keep 
their  opinions  secret,  though  the  detective,  when 
he  came,  blamed  them  for  not  doing1  so.  But 
the  Colton  servants,  if  no  one  else,  would  have 
spread  them  far  and  wide,  so  angry  were  they 
that  any  one  should  harm  the  property  of  their 
young  master. 

Presently  our  editors  saw  the  opportunity  for 
a  journalistic  feat,  and  grasped  it  promptly. 
Leaving  the  wrecked  building  as  it  was  for  the 
detective  to  examine,  the  Caxton  Club  (for  it 


WOE  OF  LITTLE  RED  CLUB-HOUSE.  53 


chanced  to  he  a  Saturday  and  there  was  no 
school)  repaired  to  Caspar’s  office  in  the  barn. 
Since  the  consolidation  of  the  three  papers  this 
room,  once  so  busy,  had  been  given  up  to  the 
mice,  but  that  Saturday  morning  it  was  a  hive 
of  activity.  Pencils  Hew,  fingers  dived  rapidly 
after  the  type,  Caspar’s  press  limbered  up  its 
rusty  joints,  and  early  in  the  afternoon  the 
Caxton  Club  were  distributing  extras  to  their 
subscribers  and  all  their  village  friends  — indeed, 
to  any  one  that  would  take  them. 

THE  REFORMER-EXTRA! 


A  DASTARDLY  DEED! 


THE  REFORMER’S  OFFICE  WRECKED! 


Midnight  Marauders  and  the  Ruin  they  Wrought !  Was 

Revenge  the  Motive? 


These  “  scare  heads  ”  were  followed  by  a  full 
account  of  the  affair,  a  graphic  pen-picture  of 
the  dismantled  office,  ending  with  a  hint  of  the 
enmity  The  Reformer  had  excited,  and  of  the 
probability  that  this  was  the  cause  of  the  out¬ 
rage. 

The  interest  aroused  by  the  first  two  numbers 


54 


THE  CAXTON  CLUB. 


of  the  paper  was  greatly  deepened  by  this  strik¬ 
ing  “extra.” 

“  Things  have  come  to  a  pretty  pass  in  Gard¬ 
ner  !  ”  people  cried. 

“  It ’s  plain  to  be  seen  who  did  it !  ”  was 
every  one’s  remark. 

Every  one’s,  that  is,  but  the  detective’s.  He 
was  a  very  commonplace  young  man,  as  different 
as  possible  from  the  romantic  ideal  the  boys  had 
formed. 

“  He  a  detective  !  ”  Caspar  exclaimed.  “  Why, 
he  does  n’t  look  as  if  he  ever  assumed  a  disguise 
in  his  life.”  Probably  he  never  had. 

“  He  a  detective  !  ”  cried  Kate.  “  Why,  he 
never  once  spoke  in  a  whisper,  and  he  did  n’t  say 
a  word  about  a  clue,  and  he  did  n’t  go  nosing 
around  in  a  single  corner,  looking  for  signs  and 
footprints.” 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  however,  Mr.  Colton  knew 
Mr.  Gray  to  be  a  very  shrewd  detective ;  and 
after  he  had  spent  several  days  on  the  case,  and 
reported  that  he  saw  “  nothing  in  it,”  the  banker 
let  him  go  back  to  the  city.  Indeed,  Dick  Grimes, 
if  Dick  had  done  it,  had  left  no  tracks,  and  was 
giving  no  evidence.  The  boys,  to  be  sure,  thought 
that  his  face  wore  a  look  of  triumph ;  but,  as  the 
detective  explained,  you  can’t  bring  a  look  of 
triumph  into  court  and  show  it  to  a  jury. 

Fortunately  for  the  Caxton  Club,  Mr.  Colton 


WOE  OF  LITTLE  RED  CLUB-HOUSE.  55 


was  a  rich  man,  and  at  once  set  about  the  task 
of  restoring  the  ruined  club-house  to  its  former 
condition.  Walls  and  floor  were  cleaned.  New 
furniture  was  installed.  A  press  was  bought, 
the  mate  of  the  wrecked  “Ben  Franklin.”  In¬ 
deed,  with  the  experience  they  had  already  had, 
the  boys  were  able  to  improve  greatly  upon  their 
old  quarters,  both  in  beauty  and  in  convenience. 
The  Caxton  Club  came  out  of  its  troubles  with 
colors  flying. 


56 


THE  CA X TON  CLUB. 


X. 

BEN  IN  TROUBLE. 

But  a  new  trouble  was  approaching,  and  one 
that  I  do  not  want  to  tell  about.  It  is  the  only 
event  in  the  whole  story  that  I  shall  not  enjoy 
relating.  It  happened  in  this  way. 

One  evening  Caspar  went  to  the  post-office  to 
mail  some  letters.  The  post-office  seemed  de¬ 
serted,  there  was  no  one  visible  outside  or  inside. 
Caspar  had  to  buy  some  stamps,  and  he  saw  a 
large  box  full  lying  open  on  a  shelf  just  back  of 
the  delivery  window.  Impatiently  he  pushed 
against  the  rusty  iron  screen  of  the  window  and 
felt  it  give  ;  it  was  unlocked. 

In  an  instant  the  spirit  of  mischief,  mingled 
with  the  thought  of  revenge,  took  possession  of 
the  boy.  He  pushed  open  the  screen,  made  a 
long  arm,  grasped  the  box,  and  hurried  away 
with  it  in  the  deepening  twilight. 

But  no  sooner  was  Caspar  outside  the  door 
than  the  shameful  fact  of  what  he  had  done  burst 
upon  him. 

He  was  a  thief  ! 

u  Thief !  ”  a  maple  tree  seemed  to  hiss  at  him, 


BEN  IN  TROUBLE. 


57 


rubbing  its  leaves  together  under  a  gentle 
breeze. 

“  Thief !  ”  a  dog  seemed  to  bark,  running 
around  the  corner  toward  him. 

“  Thief  !  Thief !  ”  an  inner  voice  cried,  loudest 
of  all. 

Caspar  looked  back,  terrified,  into  the  office. 
He  fancied  he  heard  steps.  He  never  could  put 
the  stamps  back  safely.  He  must  run  with  them. 

His  heart  gave  a  wild  leap.  What  way  should 
he  run  ?  The  post-office  was  fairly  in  the  centre 
of  the  village,  and  stores  were  in  every  direction, 
their  bright  lights  beginning  to  flash  across  the 
sidewalk.  Caspar  clung  to  the  shadow  of  the 
side  of  the  building  as  if  it  were  his  only  safety. 

“  Run  !  Run  !  ”  something  said  to  him. 

The  poor  fellow  ran,  throwing  away  the  box 
of  stamps  at  the  first  corner,  without  stopping  to 
see  where  it  fell. 

Then  came  the  strange  part  of  it  all. 

Ben  also,  unluckily,  had  letters  to  mail  that 
night ;  and,  unluckily,  his  letters  were  stamped, 
so  that  he  deposited  them  at  once,  and  walked 
out.  Unluckily,  too,  while  he  was  walking  out, 
Dick  Grimes  returned  to  the  office  through  the 
back  door,  saw  the  open  delivery  window,  and 
saw  that  the  stamps  were  gone. 

It  all  happened  in  a  minute. 

Dick  dashed  after  Ben,  shouting,  “  Stop,  thief!  ” 


58 


THE  CA  X  TON  CLUB. 


with  all  the  power  of  his  strong  lungs.  He 
pounced  upon  Ben  just  at  the  place  where  the 
stamps  had  been  thrown  away,  and  at  the  same 
time  he  caught  sight  of  the  box  lying  at  the  base 
of  a  fence,  the  red  sheets  glowing  with  light  from 
a  street  lamp. 

Dick  had  certainly  seen  that  Ben  had  no  box 
under  his  arm.  He  had  seen  that  Ben  was  walk¬ 
ing  leisurely  and  not  running.  He  knew  that 
Ben  had  not  thrown  the  stamps  where  they  lay. 
But  his  cunning  brain  at  once  as  certainly  per¬ 
ceived  that  here  had  come  a  chance  for  great 
mischief,  and  he  raised  the  cry  of 44  Thief !  ”  louder 
than  ever. 

44  Thief  !  ”  cried  several  men,  running  out  from 
the  shops.  44  Why,  Dick  Grimes,  what ’s  the 
matter?  ” 

44  Thief  !  ”  screamed  Dick.  44  Ben  Earle  ’s  been 
stealing  stamps  !  Help  !  Hold  him,  somebody  !  ” 

44 1  have  n’t !  ”  cried  Ben,  indignantly.  44  Let 
go  of  me  !  ”  and  he  wrenched  himself  loose. 

44  Don’t  let  him  go  !  ”  shouted  Dick.  44  Here 
are  the  stamps,  where  he  just  threw  them  away.” 

44  Why,  this  is  serious,”  said  one  of  the  men. 

“Where’s  Sanders?  Sanders  ought  to  look 
into  this,”  said  another. 

Sanders  was  the  village  constable,  a  butcher 
by  trade,  and  his  shop  was  only  a  short  distance 
away.  He  was  soon  on  the  spot,  brought  there 


BEN  IN  TROUBLE. 


59 


by  Dick’s  excited  screams.  Sanders  belonged  to 
the  set  of  politicians  that  had  for  so  long  held 
sway  over  affairs  in  Gardner,  and  his  little  eyes 
glistened  when  he  saw  that  his  prisoner  was  Ben 
Earle. 

“You  come  along  with  me,”  he  said,  taking 
Ben  roughly  by  the  collar.  “  And  yon,  Dick, 
and  all  the  rest  of  yon  men,  be  at  the  squire’s  for 
witnesses  at  ten  o’clock  to-morrow  morning. 
Come  along  now,  Ben  Earle.” 

And  Ben  Earle  was  locked  up  for  the  night  in 
the  village  jail. 


60 


THE  CAXTON  CLUB. 


XI. 

HARD  TIMES, 

It  was  early  the  next  morning  when  Kate 
Earle  rang  the  front-cloor  bell  at  the  house  of 
President  Grace.  Caspar  himself  chanced  to 
open  it. 

“  Why,  what ’s  the  matter?  ”  he  asked,  as  soon 
as  he  saw  her.  For  Kate’s  eyes  were  red  and 
swollen,  and  her  cheeks  were  very  pale. 

“It’s  Ben!  Ben’s  in  jail!”  poor  Kate  fal¬ 
tered.  “  Did  n’t  you  know  it  ?  ” 

“  In  jail !  What  for  ?  Who  put  him  there  ?  ” 
were  Caspar’s  hurried  and  excited  questions. 

Dick  Grimes  had  him  put  there.  He 
charges  him  with  stealing  stamps.” 

It  was  now  Caspar’s  turn  to  look  pale. 

“  Stamps  !  Ben  did  n’t  steal  the  stamps  !  ”  he 
cried  forlornly. 

“  Of  course  he  did  n’t !  But  he  was  going 
away  from  the  post-office,  and  Dick  ran  after 
him,  and  found  the  stamps  just  where  he  caught 
up  with  him,  and  a  lot  of  men  saw  the  stamps, 
too,  so  they  put  Ben  in  jail,  and  he  has  been 
there  all  night.  Everybody  really  believes  Ben 


HARD  TIMES. 


61 


stole  them  !  ”  And  Kate  broke  down,  sobbing  at 
the  thought. 

“We’ve  had  such  a  night,  Caspar,  at  our 
house !  He  sent  word  to  us,  as  he  was  on  his 
way,  and  papa  went  out  to  the  jail  at  once,  but 
he  could  n’t  do  anything.  The  trial  is  to  be  at 
ten  o’clock  this  morning.  Oh,  Caspar,  can’t 
your  father  do  something  ?  ” 

The  suggestion  roused  Caspar  from  his  dismay. 

“  Of  course  he  can  do  something ;  and  he 
will,  right  away.  And  Mr.  Colton  can  do  some¬ 
thing.  I ’ll  run  right  over  to  Arthur’s.  You 
go  home,  Kate,  and  don’t  worry.  They  can’t 
prove  it  on  him.” 

So  Kate  went  home,  and  Caspar  set  about  his 
work  of  rescue.  But  ah,  what  a  heavy  heart 
the  boy  had  !  “  Ben  in  disgrace  !  Ben  Earle 

called  a  thief !  ”  In  this  way  his  conscience 
kept  talking  to  him.  “  And  you  are  the  thief, 
Caspar  Grace.  The  only  way  Ben  can  really  be 
cleared  is  for  you  to  confess.” 

Caspar  made  up  his  mind  to  confess  it  all ;  and 
then  came  the  thought  of  the  jail  and  the  trial, 
and  may  be  state’s  prison,  or  anyway  the  house 
of  correction. 

“  But  no  one  will  believe  it  of  Ben,”  Caspar 
assured  his  conscience.  “  They  will  simply 
know  it  is  one  of  Dick  Grimes’  lies.  They 
can’t  prove  a  thing.  It  won’t  hurt  Ben  a  mite, 


62 


THE  C  A  XT ON  CLUB. 


while  if  I  should  confess  ”  —  here  Caspar  shud¬ 
dered. 

President  Grace  had  a  recitation  at  ten  o’clock, 
but  he  postponed  it  in  order  to  appear  at  the 
trial.  Mr.  Colton  had  an  important  engagement 
at  the  bank,  but  he  put  it  off.  Moreover,  he 
obtained  the  services  of  his  friend  Judge  Miller, 
an  old  lawyer  who  had  long  since  left  the  bench, 
but  whose  wits  were  as  keen  as  ever,  while  his 
reputation  extended  over  all  the  neighboring 
counties. 

A  large  crowd  filled  Squire  Holbrook’s  office 
long  before  ten  o’clock.  The  friends  of  the 
young  prisoner  made  an  imposing  array,  for  not 
a  few  of  the  leading  men  in  town  were  there,  in 
addition  to  those  I  have  named,  and  all  of  them 
were  eager  to  speak  a  good  word  for  Ben.  Kate 
and  her  mother  remained,  trembling,  at  home, 
but  Mr.  Earle  was  there,  his  face  showing  his 
anxiety.  As  for  Arthur  and  Caspar,  it  wras  all 
they  could  do  to  keep  back  the  tears. 

But  Mr.  Grimes  and  Dick  were  also  there, 
with  a  strong  showing  of  their  set,  the  men 
whom  The  Reformer  had  begun  to  oppose  so 
effectively.  They  laughed  and  winked  joyfully 
at  one  another  ;  and.  when  the  constable  brought 
in  Ben,  keeping  a  tight  grip  on  his  arm,  an  ex¬ 
ultant  sound  ran  through  their  ranks. 

Ben  was  pallid,  and  showed  traces  of  the 


HARD  TIMES. 


63 


niglit  he  had  passed,  but  he  held  up  his  head 
and  looked  at  his  father  and  his  friends  with  a 
confident  smile. 

Squire  Holbrook  cleared  his  throat,  giving  an 
important  “  Hem  !  ”  He  was  a  very  large  man, 
with  bushy  white  hair,  and  spectacles  pushed  up 
over  his  forehead.  He  wore  the  spectacles  in 
order  to  look  wise,  it  was  said ;  at  any  rate,  he 
was  never  known  to  look  through  them.  Few 
persons  in  town  could  remember  when  the  squire 
was  not  a  squire.  Term  after  term  he  was 
placed  in  office  as  a  matter  of  course.  Indeed, 
every  one  liked  the  old  fellow,  and  admired  the 
shrewd  justice  which  he  had  so  long  dealt  out. 

“  What ’s  the  case,  Sanders  ?  ”  he  asked. 

“  This  prisoner,  your  honor,  is  Benjamin  Earle. 
He  is  charged  with  stealing  from  the  post-office 
a  box  of  two-cent  stamps,  valued  at  eighty-five 
dollars.” 

u  Who ’s  the  plaintiff  ?  ” 

“  Mr.  Grimes,  your  honor,  and  the  principal 
witness  is  Richard  Grimes,  his  son.” 

“  Well,  Dick  Grimes,  what  do  you  know  about 
it  ?  Speak  up.” 

With  that  Dick  told  his  story,  slyly  passing 
over  the  fact  that  he  had  neither  seen  the  box  in 
Ben’s  hands  nor  seen  him  throw  it  away. 

Mr.  Grimes  followed,  describing  what  he  was 
pleased  to  call  “  the  prisoner’s  dastardly  attempt 


64 


THE  C  A  XT  ON  CLUB. 


to  defraud  the  United  States  government  by 
obtaining  illegal  rates  for  a  disgusting  little 
paper  of  his.”  He  ascribed  the  theft  of  the 
stamps  to  Ben’s  desire  for  revenge. 

The  next  witnesses  were  the  men  from  the 
stores,  who  had  been  drawn  to  the  scene  by 
Dick’s  outcry.  Their  testimony  merely  estab¬ 
lished  the  facts  that  Ben  Earle  was  seen  on  the 
spot  and  that  the  box  of  stamps  lay  near  him. 

“Is  that  the  whole  of  your  case,  Si  Grimes?  ” 
asked  the  squire,  addressing  the  postmaster. 

“  All  at  present,  your  honor,”  said  Mr.  Grimes, 
implying  that  he  had  any  amount  of  evidence  in 
reserve. 

“Now,”  said  the  old  squire,  turning  to  Ben, 
“  what  have  you  got  to  say  for  yourself,  young 
feller  ?  Y our  looks,  anyway,  don’t  stamp  you  as 
a  thief.” 

The  squire  liked  to  have  his  little  joke,  and 
he  chuckled  over  his  pun. 

“  I  have  never  touched  these  stamps,  sir,” 
said  Ben.  “  I  merely  went  into  the  office  to 
post  some  letters,  and  came  away.  I  saw  that 
the  delivery  window  was  open,  but  I  did  not 
touch  or  particularly  notice  anything  inside. 
There  was  no  one  in  the  office,  so  far  as  I  know, 
and  I  can  only  offer  you  my  word,  —  unless 
some  one  will  speak  for  my  good  character. 
The  first  I  knew  of  the  matter  was  when  Dick 


HARD  TIMES. 


65 


ran  after  me  and  laid  hands  on  me.  Then  I, 
like  others,  saw  the  stamps  lying  by  the  fence.” 

u  A  truly  virtuous  boy  !  ”  sneered  Mr.  Grimes, 
while  his  party  indulged  in  various  mocking 
remarks. 

“  Silence  in  the  court !  ”  called  the  squire, 
sternly.  Then  he  turned  in  an  expectant  way 
toward  Ben’s  friends. 

It  was  impressive  testimony  they  gave,  one 
after  another,  the  solid,  substantial  men  of  the 
village.  Mr.  Earle  spoke  first,  and  his  few, 
straightforward  words  were  said  in  the  midst  of 
a  perfect  stillness  which  showed  that  every  one 
present  understood  what  this  matter  meant  to 
that  father.  Then  the  college  president  had  his 
say,  speaking  of  the  many  hours  that  Ben  had 
spent  at  his  house,  and  of  his  uniformly  high 
character  as  he  had  observed  it,  and  that  he  was 
glad  to  have  his  son  in  the  company  of  that 
kind  of  boy.  The  banker  followed,  and  Ben’s 
minister,  his  teachers  in  day  school  and  Sunday 
school,  several  merchants,  and  last  of  all  arose 
Judge  Miller,  tall  in  spite  of  his  age,  and  very 
impressive  with  his  white  hair  and  strong 
features. 

“  May  it  please  the  court,”  he  said,  bowing 
to  the  squire  with  a  deference  which  greatly 
gratified  that  personage,  “  I  should  like  to  have 
the  first  witness  sworn.” 


66 


THE  CAXTON  CLUB 


“  Stand  up,  Dick,”  commanded  the  squire, 
“  and  hold  up  your  right  hand.” 

Dick  obeyed,  hut  growing  suddenly  pale,  and 
lowering  his  eyes  as  he  took  the  obligation  to 
“  tell  the  truth,  the  whole  truth,  and  nothing 
but  the  truth,”  and  called  upon  God  to  bear 
witness. 

Then  Judge  Miller,  fixing  his  deep-set  black 
eyes  upon  Dick’s  shifting  ones,  delivered  a  lect¬ 
ure  on  the  character  of  an  oath,  spoke  of  the 
crime  of  perjury,  and  described  the  punishment 
meted  out  to  that  crime.  After  this  warning,  he 
began  to  cross-examine  Dick. 

First  he  made  the  boy  confess  that  he  had  left 
the  delivery  door  unlocked,  and  so  exposed  the 
stamps  to  robbery.  This  gave  the  judge  an 
opportunity,  by  a  few  quiet  questions,  to  expose 
the  carelessness  common  in  the  village  post- 
office,  and  to  hold  up  Mr.  Grimes  and  his  subor¬ 
dinates  as  unworthy  government  servants. 

Next  he  brought  out,  by  a  series  of  questions, 
the  story  of  Dick  s  attempt  to  join  the  Caxton 
Club,  and  was  about  to  catechize  the  boy  re¬ 
garding  the  destruction  at  the  club-house ;  but 
Mr.  Grimes  objected  to  the  introduction  of  that 
matter,  and  the  squire  ruled  it  out.  However, 
Judge  Miller  had  already  made  his  point,  which 
was  to  show  that  there  was  a  motive  for  Dick  to 
charge  Ben  with  theft. 


HARD  TIMES. 


67 


“  And  now,”  declared  Judge  Miller,  “  we 
come  to  the  main  questions  ;  and  again  I  desire 
to  warn  this  young  man  that  he  is  under  oath, 
and  to  remind  him  of  the  heavy  penalties  at¬ 
tached  to  the  crime  of  perjury.  Richard  Grimes, 
did  you,  at  any  time,  actually  see  that  box  of 
stamps  in  Ben  Earle’s  possession  ?  ” 

“  I  object  to  the  question !  ”  shouted  Mr. 
Grimes. 

“  Why  do  you  object  ?  ”  asked  the  squire. 

“  Because  it  lias  been  proved  that  Ben  Earle 
had  that  box  of  stamps.  Was  n’t  it  found  right 
at  his  feet?  How  else  could  it  have  got  there, 
I  ’d  like  to  know  ?  ” 

“Judge  Miller’s  question,”  said  the  squire, 
“is  a  proper  one,  and  the  witness  must  answer.” 

Judge  Miller  repeated  the  question. 

The  wretched  witness  faltered  and  stammered. 
At  last  he  said,  “  I  don’t  know.  It  was  too 
dark  to  see  plainly.  But  he  must  have  had  it, 
or  how  could  he  throw  it  away?  ” 

Dismissing  Dick  with  a  contemptuous  wave 
of  his  hand,  Judge  Miller  summed  up  his  case. 
He  reminded  the  squire,  significantly,  that  Dick 
had  brought  no  evidence  to  prove  his  honesty 
and  good  character.  He  reviewed  what  had 
been  said  about  Ben’s  upright  life.  He  inquired 
why  the  witness  and  his  father  were  so  unwill¬ 
ing  to  have  the  wreck  of  the  club-house  inquired 


68 


THE  C  A  XT  ON  CLUB. 


into.  Finally,  he  brought  out  the  fact  that  no 
one  had  seen  Ben  with  the  stamps,  and  that  it 
would  have  been  as  just  to  accuse  the  squire 
himself,  if  he  had  happened  to  be  passing  near 
the  box.  “There  was  a  thief,  of  course,”  Judge 
Miller  concluded,  “  but  it  was  not  Benjamin 
Earle.” 

I  have  said  nothing  about  Caspar  through  all  this 
scene.  The  lad  was  sitting  there,  almost  frantic 
with  grief,  and  fear,  and  shame.  He  knew  what 
he  ought  to  do.  He  knew  that  a  single  sentence 
from  him  would  free  Ben  at  once  from  suspicion, 
but  it  would  put  him  in  his  friend’s  place.  It 
would  hand  him  over  to  the  constable  and  the 
jail.  Caspar  trembled  at  the  very  thought. 

And  then,  as  before,  he  began  to  argue  with 
himself.  No  one  really  believed  it  of  Ben,  not 
even  Ben’s  enemies  believed  it;  he  was  coming 
out  of  it  all  right.  Judge  Miller  would  bring  him 
out  of  it  all  right.  Squire  Holbrook  would  do  the 
right  thing.  Why  should  he  ruin  his  own  life 
needlessly  ? 

So  did  the  tortured  boy  argue  with  his  con¬ 
science  —  and  sit  still.  Half  dazed,  he  heard 
Judge  Miller’s  concluding  remarks,  heard  the 
squire  pronounce  his  decision  that  nothing  had 
been  proved  against  Ben,  and  bid  the  constable 
let  him  go.  He  sat  there  and  watched  Ben’s 
friends  congratulate  him ;  and  he,  who  had  usu- 


II ARB  TIMES. 


69 


ally  been  the  very  first  to  leap  to  his  side,  was 
now  the  last  to  speak  to  him. 

Alas  for  Caspar ! 

But  Ben  was  free.  Ben  Earid  walked  out  of 
that  court  room  no  longer  a  boy ;  the  hard  expe¬ 
rience  had  made  of  him  a  young  man.  He  was 
never  again  quite  what  he  was  before.  And 
beside,  the  wretched  affair  was  not  yet  at  an  end, 
because  there  came  out  of  it  something  very 
important,  which  I  have  still  to  relate. 


TO 


THE  CAX TON  CLUB. 


XII. 


PRESIDENT  GRACE  HAS  A  WORD  TO  SAY. 


For  if  you  think  that  the  Grimeses,  father 
and  son,  ceased  their  evil  efforts  after  their  defeat 
before  Squire  Holbrook,  you  little  know  them. 
I  have  already  said  that  Mr.  Grimes  was  one 
of  the  owners  of  The  Gardner  Graphic ,  and  it 
will  be  remembered  that  it  was  in  the  Graphic 
printing-office  that  Mr.  Earle  was  foreman. 
Every  one  connected  with  the  office  liked  Mr. 
Earle.  The  editor  admired  his  skill,  his  accu¬ 
racy,  and  his  faithfulness.  The  compositors  and 
pressmen  loved  him  for  his  kindness  and  his 
justice. 

There  was  rebellion  among  the  Graphic  em¬ 
ployees,  therefore,  when,  the  day  after  Ben’s 
trial,  Mr.  Grimes  walked  in,  his  face  heavy  with  a 
scowl,  and  dismissed  Mr.  Earle  from  his  position. 

“You  get  out  of  here,  Sam  Earle,”  he  com¬ 
manded.  “Never  show  your  face  here  again. 
You’re  the  father  of  a  thief,  and  you’re  prob¬ 
ably  no  better  yourself.  Anyway,  I  won’t  run 
the  risk  of  having  you  around.  You  clear  out 
instantly.” 


PRESIDENT  GRACE  HAS  A  WORD.  71 


The  whole  force  of  printers  growled  under 
their  breath,  but  they  did  n’t  dare  say  a  word. 
One  of  them  went  to  the  editor,  and  Mr.  Stan- 
wood  came  hurrying  out  of  his  office. 

“  Why,  Mr.  Grimes,”  he  ventured,  very  re¬ 
spectfully,  “  I  don’t  see  how  we  can  spare  Earle. 
He  is  invaluable.  The  paper  can’t  get  along 
without  him,  and  his  character  is  above  re¬ 
proach.” 

“  Mind  your  own  business,  Stan  wood,  if  you 
don’t  want  to  go  too,”  snarled  Mr.  Grimes,  stalk¬ 
ing  out  of  the  office.  Mr.  Stanwood  had  become 
familiar  with  the  brutal  power  of  his  employer, 
through  five  years  of  hateful  service.  He  was 
not  a  man  of  spirit,  or  he  would  long  ago  have 
left  his  position  ;  now  he  dared  only  to  sympa¬ 
thize  with  the  dismissed  foreman,  and  offer  to 
do  what  he  could  toward  getting  him  a  place  in 
some  other  printing  establishment.  How  diffi¬ 
cult  that  would  be,  however,  both  he  and  Mr. 
Earle  knew  very  well. 

Once  more  the  Grace  front  door-bell  was 
rung  as  a  signal  of  distress,  but  this  time  it  was 
Ben,  and  not  Kate,  whom  Caspar  found  there. 
Ben  had  not  the  heart  to  give  the  usual  sum¬ 
mons,  the  “  flicker  ”  whistle. 

Caspar,  whose  conscience  had  let  him  sleep 
little  that  night,  saw  at  once  that  something 
was  the  matter. 


72 


THE  C  A  XT  ON  CLUB. 


“  What  is  it,  Ben  ?  ”  lie  cried.  “  Anything 
more  that  is  bad  ?  ” 

“I  should  say  so!”  groaned  Ben.  “Father 
is  discharged.” 

“  Discharged  ?  How  ?  Who  did  it  ?  Why  ?  ” 

“  Mr.  Grimes  did  it,  because,  he  said,  father 
was  probably  a  thief  as  much  as  I.  Caspar,  I 
don’t  believe  I  should  have  got  out  that  last 
number  of  our  paper  if  I  ’d  remembered  that  Mr. 
Grimes  owns  The  Graphic —  or  part  owns  it,  any¬ 
way.  And  now  what  are  we  to  do  ?  One 
thing,  I ’m  going  to  leave  school  and  try  to  earn 
money  till  father  gets  another  place.” 

Caspar  groaned.  Here  was  more  fruit  of  his 
thoughtless  act,  and  the  cowardice  that  followed 
it.  “  But,”  he  began  at  once  to  argue  with  his 
conscience,  “  it  was  n’t  the  stamps ;  that  was 
only  a  pretext.  Mr.  Earle  would  have  been 
discharged  anyway,  on  account  of  The  Re¬ 
former .” 

So  he  comforted  Ben  as  best  he  could,  telling 
him  how  sure  he  was  that  The  Graphic  could  n’t 
be  run  without  his  father,  and  anyway  such  a 
good  printer  as  Mr.  Earle  would  not  be  long 
without  a  job. 

A  cheery  voice  out  of  the  hall  broke  in  on 
their  talk.  “  Well,  boys,”  President  Grace  said, 
“  why  are  your  faces  so  long  ?  You  ought  to  be 
jubilant  this  morning ;  but  Caspar  has  been  as 


PRESIDENT  GRACE  HAS  A  WORD.  78 


solemn  as  an  owl,  and  now  here ’s  Ben  just  as 
gloomy.  What ’s  np,  boys  ?  ” 

In  one  long  sentence  Caspar  told  the  latest 
outrage,  and  President  Grace  was  as  indignant 
as  the  two  boys. 

“  I  ’in  going  to  see  that  Grimes  right  away,” 
he  said,  taking  his  hat. 

“  Oh,  will  you  ?  ”  cried  Ben  and  Caspar  to¬ 
gether,  feeling  that  their  troubles  were  fairly  off, 
now  that  President  Grace  had  taken  them  upon 
his  shoulders. 

President  Grace  at  once  strode  away  to  the 
post-office,  leaving  the  boys  to  bright  imaginings 
concerning  the  interview  and  its  results.  Some¬ 
thing  would  certainly  happen.  Something 
always  did  happen  when  President  Grace  un¬ 
dertook  business. 

Postmaster  Grimes  was  found  sitting  on  the 
counter  at  the  post-office,  talking  to  a  company 
of  his  friends,  who  were  just  then  particularly 
hilarious.  “  He  ’ll  have  to  leave  town,  of 
course,”  he  was  saying. 

“I  want  to  speak  with  you,  Mr.  Grimes,” 
said  President  Grace. 

“Well,  here  I  am,”  answered  Mr.  Grimes, 
swinging  his  legs  against  the  counter. 

“You  ’ll  not  want  any  one  else  to  hear  what 
I  have  to  say,”  said  President  Grace.  “  I  think 
we  would  better  retire.” 


74 


THE  CAXTON  CLUB. 


The  postmaster  hesitated.  He  knew  that  the 
President  of  Albemarle  College  was  not  in  the 
habit  of  making  statements  for  effect.  At  last 
he  growled  out,  “  J’m  not  afraid  to  talk  before 
any  one,”  but  led  the  way  to  his  inner  office. 

“  Mr.  Grimes,  I  have  just  lffiard  of  the  con¬ 
temptible  thing  yon  did  this  morning,”  said 
President  Grace. 

“Now,  look  here,  Mr.  Grace,  if  you  think 
you  ’re  going  to  ”  — 

“  I ’m  going  to  give  you  an  opportunity  to 
restore  Mr.  Earle  to  his  position,”  went  on 
President  Grace. 

“  Oh,  you  are,  are  you  ?  ”  Mr.  Grimes  sneered. 

“  Will  you  do  it,  and  at  once  ?  ” 

Mr.  Grimes  twisted  uneasily  in  his  chair. 
“  Suppose  I  propose  to  manage  my  business  in 
my  own  way.  What  are  you  going  to  do  about 
it?” 

“  I  will  tell  you,  Mr.  Grimes,  exactly  what  I 
will  do  if  you  don  ’t  take  hack  Mr.  Earle  at  once. 
I  ’ll  call  a  meeting  of  the  best  men  in  the  town. 
Every  storekeeper  that  advertises  in  The  Graphic 
will  be  there,  every  doctor,  every  minister,  every 
substantial  farmer,  and  pretty  much  your  entire 
list  of  subscribers,,  together  with  all  the  men 
that  give  you  job  printing  to  do.  I  can  bring 
them  together,  and  you  know  I  can.  At  that 
meeting  we  will  do  three  things.  First,  we  will 


PRESIDENT  GRACE  HAS  A  WORD.  75 


agree  henceforth  to  have  nothing  more  to  do 
with  your  paper,  not  to  subscribe  for  it,  or 
advertise  in  it,  or  give  you  any  printing  to  do. 
Second,  we  will  organize  a  company  to  publish 
a  paper  that  will  be  a  credit  to  the  town.  I 
know  who  will  run  its  composing-room,  and  I 
know  a  young  man  who  is  rapidly  growing  up 
to  be  its  editor.  Third,  we  will  send  to  Wash¬ 
ington  a  petition  for  your  removal  from  the  post- 
office,  and  the  petition  will  be  one  that  cannot 
be  refused.  You  know  I  can  bring  all  this 
about,  and  you  know  I  mean  business.  Now, 
will  you  take  back  Mr.  Earle  ?  ” 


76 


THE  C  A  XT  ON  CLUB. 


XIII. 


N.  A.  P.  A. 


Mr.  Grimes  did  not  answer  immediately,  but 
his  chin  dropped,  his  eyes  fell,  and  President 
Grace  knew  that  the  day  was  won.  The  post¬ 
master  began, to  grumble  about  “persecution,” 
and  “  ruining  his  business,”  and  “forcing  a  thief 
upon  him,”  but  the  president  was  inflexible,  and 
would  not  leave  without  a  definite  surrender. 

The  result  was  that  Ben  was  speedily  in  happy 
possession  of  the  following  note,  which  President 
Grace  gave  him  to  hand  to  his  father : 


Samuel  Earle  :  I  suppose  you  may  go  back  to  work,  and 
let  this  be  a  warning  to  you. 


Silas  Grimes. 


And  so  the  hard  experience  came  to  an  end ; 
at  least  some  important  parts  of  it  came  to  an 
end. 

For  Ben  and  Caspar  the  hardness  kept  right 
on.  You  may  well  believe  that  Dick  Grimes 
and  his  particular  friends  made  the  most  of  their 
opportunities.  They  knew  that  in  reality  the 
charge  against  Ben  stood  simply  “Not  proven  !  ” 


N.  A.  P.  A. 


77 


“  Stop,  thief !  ”  they  often  called  out  when 
Ben  was  on  the  street.  “  Thief !  ”  some  one 
labelled  his  desk  at  school.  “  Thief  !  ”  some  one 
pinned  on  his  coat  at  recess.  They  got  a  rusty 
pair  of  handcuffs  and  came  to  Ben  in  a  crowd, 
politely  asking  him  to  show  them  how  they  were 
adjusted.  There  was  drawn  upon  the  school 
blackboard  a  face  looking  out  from  behind  iron 
bars.  “  Give  us  a  song,  bird,  jailbird !  ”  some 
one  would  shout  in  his  hearing. 

These  tortures  wore  upon  Ben.  He  was 
light-hearted  no  more.  He  knew  that  he  had  a 
host  of  friends  ;  he  knew  that  no  one  worth  heed¬ 
ing  believed  him  guilty.  He  held  up  his  head 
manfully,  and  tried  not  to  mind  the  taunts  and 
to  forget  his  trouble ;  but  his  enemies  would 
not  allow  him  to  forget  it,  and  in  spite  of  him¬ 
self  he  constantly  brooded  over  it. 

Caspar  saw  it  all.  Oh,  yes,  Caspar  saw  every¬ 
thing,  heard  everything.  He  was  always  near 
Ben.  Not  a  cruel  jest  aimed  at  Ben  but  stung 
him  more.  He  lay  awake  of  nights,  going  over 
his  own  cowardly  part  in  the  affair,  and  feel¬ 
ing  in  imagination  Ben’s  daily  tortures.  Many 
a  night  he  made  up  his  mind  to  be  brave  and 
honest,  to  confess  it  all,  and  take  whatever 
consequences  might  come.  Then  with  the 
bright  morning  light  his  courage  would  ooze 
away. 


78 


THE  C A  XT  ON  CLUB. 


The  Reformer  perished  with  its  second  number 
and  that  famous  “  extra.”  It  came  to  an  end  on 
Mr.  Colton’s  quiet  advice,  heartily  accepted  by 
the  entire  Caxton  Club. 

u  It  has  a  little  too  pretentious  a  name,”  said 
Mr.  Colton,  “  for  a  paper  run  by  three  boys  and  a 
girl,  even  by  such  boys  and  such  a  girl !  ”  and 
he  bowed  gallantly  to  Kate,  who  returned  the 
bow  jauntily.  “  Continue  the  paper,  if  you  wish 
to,  and  give  attention  to  village  reforms,  if  you 
like ;  but  my  impression  is  that  you  will  be 
wiser  to  show  how  things  may  be  bettered  rather 
than  criticising  officials  directly.  And  as  for 
the  name,  I  always  liked  the  title  Ben  had  for 
his  paper,  The  Learner.  It  is  a  modest  name, 
and  it  would  exactly  fit  such  a  journal  as  you 
mean  to  conduct.  That ’s  what  all  men  are,  even 
the  wisest  of  them,  —  just  learners.” 

The  suggestion  was  received  at  once  with  en¬ 
tire  favor.  The  Reformer  was  buried  without  a 
word,  and  The  Learner  was  restored  as  the 
organ  of  the  Caxton  Club. 

It  became  a  notable  success.  In  the  history 
of  amateur  journalism  which  is  yet  to  be  written 
(for  though  such  histories  are  in  print  they  are 
small  and  incomplete),  a  great  deal  of  attention 
will  be  given  to  The  Learner.  It  became  widely 
known  very  speedily  throughout  the  N.A.P.A., 
the  National  Amateur  Press  Association.  Rep- 


N.  A.  P.  A. 


79 


utations  are  rapidly  made  in  the  N.A.P.A.,  and 
they  pass  away  as  rapidly. 

The  Learner  deserved  its  fame.  No  paper  in 
all  its  wide  exchange  list  was  so  neatly  printed, 
with  so  nice  a  choice  of  type  and  so  free  from 
errors.  No  paper  was  so  well  edited,  so  sensi¬ 
ble,  so  original,  so  bright,  so  practical.  All  four 
members  of  the  Caxton  Club  put  into  it  their 
best  brains,  and  floods  of  time.  Besides,  they 
obtained  contributions  from  all  the  good  writers 
in  town  ;  and  since  it  was  a  college  town,  these 
were  many.  It  made  no  more  sensations,  but  it 
exerted  a  steady  influence  for  the  improvement 
of  the  village. 

Inquiries  came  from  other  papers,  “  Who  is 
the  editor-in-chief  of  The  Learner  f  ”  and  the 
club  always  insisted  on  answering,  “  Arthur 
Colton.”  Neither  Ben  nor  Caspar,  for  reasons 
you  can  easily  understand,  would  accept  that 
proud  title ;  and  as  for  Kate,  though  all  the  boys 
were  ready  to  exalt  her  to  the  leadership,  she 
declared  that  her  “feeble  effort”  was  able  only 
to  keep  her  afloat  as  a  subordinate. 

Arthur  was  growing  ambitious ;  there  was  no 
doubt  about  it.  Not  a  few  papers  had  urged 
that  the  editor-in-chief  of  The  Learner  would 
make  the  best  possible  president  of  the  N.A.P.A. 
The  suggestion  was  plainly  not  displeasing  to 
Arthur ;  and  as  for  Ben,  Caspar,  and  Kate,  they 


80 


THE  C  A  XT  ON  CLUB. 


flung  up  their  hats  for  it.  The  mysterious 
44  Lee  Brane  ”  was  one  of  the  most  powerful  ad¬ 
vocates  of  Arthur’s  candidacy,  and  promoted  it 
by  articles  in  many  papers. 

44  That  settles  the  possibility  that  Lee  Brane 
is  Dick  Grimes,”  said  Caspar,  after  showing  the 
club  one  of  those  articles,  44  though  I  never 
thought  it  possible  that  he  could  be.” 

44  I ’ve  gone  over  and  over  all  the  persons  in 
town  that  might  be  Lee  Brane,  and  I  give  him 
up,”  said  Arthur.  44  T  believe  he ’s  some  fellow 
out  in  the  country  who  gets  his  mail  here.” 

It  was  after  thirty  or  forty  of  the  best  amateur 
papers  in  the  land  had  placed  44  Arthur  Colton  ” 
at  the  head  of  their  national  ticket,  and  urged 
his  election  in  editorials  full  of  such  fine  phrases 
as  44  an  honor  to  our  cause  ”  and  44  the  pride  of 
Amateurdom,”  that  Arthur  made  his  great  an¬ 
nouncement  to  Ben  and  Caspar. 

44  Boys,”  said  he,  44  papa  has  said  I  can  go  to 
Boston  to  the  N.A.P.A.  meeting.  And,  boys, 
he  has  given  me  money  to  take  you,  too.  Don’t 
say  no,  for  I  shall  need  you  to  electioneer  for 


HO,  FOR  THE  HUB! 


81 


XIV. 

HO,  FOR  THE  HUB  ! 

W ell,  what  could  the  boys  say  ?  It  was  not 
in  hoy’s  heart  to  refuse  such  an  invitation,  in 
any  case ;  and  now  that  Arthur  put  it  as  a  per¬ 
sonal  favor,  it  was  impossible. 

And  so  it  came  about  that  one  beautiful  sum¬ 
mer  day  three  boys  entered  the  sleeper  of  the 
44  through  train  ”  that  would  carry  them  to  New 
York,  whence  they  would  go  to  Boston  —  that 
mysterious  New  York  sleeper,  at  whose  glories 
they  had  taken  many  a  peep  from  the  station 
platform,  but  in  it  had  never  before  popped 
their  heads.  A  friend  of  Mr.  Colton’s  was  to 
meet  them  in  New  York  and  escort  them  to  the 
Boston  boat,  so  that  the  fears  of  the  three 
mothers  were  allayed.  44  Besides,”  President 
Grace  said,  44  I  ’d  as  soon  trust  Ben  Earle  as  a 
man,  any  day.” 

Kate  stood  on  the  platform  and  waved  her 
sunbonnet  after  them.  For  one  wild  moment 
she  wished  she  were  a  boy.  44  Just  think  !  ”  she 
said  to  herself.  44  They  are  going  to  see  Bunker 
Hill  Monument,  and  the  place  of  the  Tea  Party, 


82 


THE  C  A  XT  ON  CLUB. 


and  the  homes  of  Longfellow  and  Lowell  and 
Holmes  ;  yes,  and  maybe  the  house  where  Miss 
Alcott  lived.  And  the}^  will  see  Paul  Revere’s 
house,  too,  and  the  church  where  the  lanterns 
were  hung  out,  and  —  now  look  here,  Kate 
Earle !  you  ought  to  be  simply  feeling  glad 
your  brother  can  go  —  that  brother  who  has  so 
much  to  trouble  him  !  ” 

If  Kate  could  have  followed  her  brother  across 
Ohio  and  Pennsylvania  and  New  Jersey  she 
would  have  been  more  and  more  thankful  to  see 
how  his  spirits  rose.  Indeed,  with  the  glorious 
rush  of  the  train,  all  the  boys  soon  got  in  high 
glee,  and  for  the  first  time  since  the  troubles  I 
have  been  describing  returned  to  their  old-time 
jollity. 

Everything  was  interesting.  The  berths  — 
how  they  were  let  down  for  the  night  and  put 
up  for  the  day  ;  the  luxuries  of  the  dining-car ; 
the  splendors  of  the  mountains ;  the  smoky  al¬ 
lurements  of  the  great  manufacturing  cities  ;  the 
glimpse  of  Philadelphia  ;  the  New  Jersey  fiats  ; 
the  ferry  over  the  Hudson,  and  New  York’s  pano¬ 
rama  of  marvellous  “sky-scrapers;”  the  Fall 
River  steamer,  to  which  they  were  safely  con¬ 
ducted  by  Mr.  Colton’s  business  friend;  the 
superb  trip  around  the  great  city  into  the  Sound, 
past  the  statue  of  Liberty,  and  under  the  monster 
Brooklyn  bridge ;  the  splendors  of  the  immense 


1 10,  FOR  THE  HUB! 


83 


floating  hotel ;  the  joy  of  sleeping  for  the  first 
time  on  the  water  —  u  actually  on  a  branch  of 
the  Atlantic  Ocean; ”  the  railroad  journey  next 
morning  up  through  the  lovely  New  England 
hills  and  meadows  and  long  sea  inlets ;  the  first 
glimpses  of  Boston,  as  the  boys  passed  through 
the  imposing  Providence  station  and  took  a 
street  car  for  their  hotel. 

Ah,  it  was  a  glorious  journey ! 

Exhilarated  by  all  they  had  seen,  and  wearing 
the  air  of  old  travellers,  our  three  lads  stepped 
up  to  the  clerk’s  desk  to  register.  The  hotel 
— -Young’s  —  was  the  N.A.P.A.  headquarters, 
right  in  the  heart  of  the  old  city.  They  scanned 
the  register  eagerly,  therefore,  to  see  what  names 
distinguished  in  Amateurdom  they  could  find. 

“  Henry  Carter  is  here,”  said  Ben,  pointing  to 
the  autograph  of  the  popular  editor  of  The  Argo¬ 
naut ,  who  had  himself  served  two  terms  as  presi¬ 
dent  of  the  N.A.P.A. 

And  Walter  Norcross  —  see  !  ”  cried  Caspar, 
bending  over  the  neat  penmanship  of  that  brisk 
writer. 

uTs  Lee  Brane’s  name  down?”  asked  Arthur. 
u  We  must  find  out  about  him.” 

Here  Caspar  gave  a  low  whistle,  and  silently 
pointed  to  the  name  “  Richard  Grimes,”  scrawled 
in  Dick’s  awkward  script. 

u  He  must  have  come  by  the  Big  Four,” 


84 


THE  CAXTON  CLUB. 


Caspar  said.  “We  might  have  known  he  would 
be  on  hand,  if  he  saw  by  his  exchanges  that 
there  was  a  chance  of  your  being  chosen  presi¬ 
dent.” 

Dick  was  indeed  there,  and  very  much  at 
home  among  a  certain  set  of  the  boys.  They 
saw  him  in  the  breakfast  room,  for  the  great 
1 10 tel  had  set  apart  one  room  for  the  members 
of  the  N.A.P.A.,  where  they  could  eat  to¬ 
gether.  There  Dick  was  hard  at  work,  chatting 
with  this  lad,  whispering  to  that,  and  causing 
many  to  look  around  at  the  three  members  of 
the  Caxton  Club.  The  candidate  for  the  presi¬ 
dency  whom  he  was  pushing,  in  opposition  to 
Arthur,  was  Edgar  Bolton,  a  wealthy  young 
fellow  also  from  Ohio.  It  was  agreed  on  all 
hands  that  one  of  the  Middle  States  should 
have  the  presidency  that  year ;  but  Bolton, 
though  his  journal,  The  Buckeye  Blade ,  was 
printed  on  beautiful,  heavy  paper,  in  fine  style, 
yet  was  an  empty-headed  boy,  whose  articles 
and  editorials  were  large-sounding  but  bare  of 
sense.  For  several  years  he  had  sought  the 
presidency,  but  in  vain.  Never  before,  how¬ 
ever,  had  he  found  so  zealous  an  advocate  as 
Dick. 

Ben  and  Caspar  began  at  once  to  push  the 
claims  of  their  candidate.  Nearly  every  member 
of  the  convention  was  known  to  them  by  name. 


110,  FOR  THE  HUB! 


85 


With  many  of  them  they  had  corresponded. 
With  all  they  had  exchanged  papers. 

First  they  hunted  up  the  editors  that  had 
already  come  out  for  Arthur,  introduced  them¬ 
selves,  and  obtained  from  them  introductions  to 
others.  Our  two  electioneers  were  earnest  in 
their  praise  of  Arthur,  and  won  many  new 
friends  for  him. 

It  was  Colton  against  Bolton,  for  there  were 
no  other  prominent  candidates,  though  probably 
half  the  boys  in  the  convention  were  candidates 
on  a  small  scale.  No  national  Republican  or 
Democratic  convention  can  equal  in  the  fierce¬ 
ness  of  its  work  a  convention  of  the  N.A.P.A. 

For  the  first  day,  however,  while  the  young 
editors  w^ere  gathering  at  Young’s  Hotel,  this 
electioneering  had  to  come  in  as  a  by-the-way, 
so  full  a  programme  of  sight-seeing  had  the 
Boston  boys  laid  out  for  their  guests.  Soon 
after  breakfast,  under  the  escort  of  several 
friendly  reporters,  they  visited  Newspaper  Row, 
near  by. 

This  was  indeed  a  printers’  paradise.  The 
narrow  street,  with  the  tall  buildings  rising  on 
either  hand,  the  newsboys’  shrill  cries,  and  the 
fascinating  bulletin  boards,  lettered  with  a  sum¬ 
mary  of  the  news  from  all  parts  of  the  world, 
would  have  held  the  Caxton  Club  for  a  long 
while  if  their  guides  had  not  hurried  them  on. 


86 


THE  C A  XT ON  CLUB. 


Indeed,  that  very  morning,  as  it  happened,  a 
notable  yacht  race  was  being  sailed  off  Sandy 
Hook,  and  in  front  of  the  various  newspaper 
buildings  were  large  blackboards,  beside  which 
telegraph  instruments  were  ticking  away.  The 
progress  of  the  rival  yachts  was  shown  on  the 
blackboards  as  fast  as  the  telegraph  flashed  the 
news,  and  the  hurrahing  crowds  in  the  street 
below  were  practically  spectators  of  the  race 
that  was  going  on  hundreds  of  miles  away. 

Inside  the  tall  buildings,  however,  it  was  still 
more  wonderful.  They  were  admitted  to  the 
editors1  rooms,  and  honored  with  a  hearty  but 
very  brief  greeting  from  those  dignitaries. 
“  It ’s  always  an  editor’s  busy  day,  you  know, 
boys.  Keep  your  heads  level,  do  good  work, 
and  you  ’ll  make  your  mark  in  our  business.” 
That  was  the  way  the  editors  talked  to  their 
callers,  and  then  turned  and  scribbled  off  gay 
paragraphs  about  them. 

In  the  composing-rooms  there  was  one  great 
curiosity  to  nearty  all  the  boys.  The  Boston 
papers  were  just  beginning  to  introduce  type¬ 
setting  machines,  and  several  different  kinds 
were  to  be  seen.  All  were  played  like  typewriters 
by  skilled  operators,  but  in  one  of  them  the  type 
slid  down  in  long  lines,  one  letter  after  another 
being  released  by  a  touch  on  the  magic  keys, 
while  in  another  the  type  was  actually  cast  as 


HO ,  FOR  THE  HUB! 


87 


the  keys  were  moved,  and  the  lines  came  out 
solid  blocks  of  fresh  metal  —  a  most  surprising 
contrivance  ! 

But  of  all  the  marvels  —  and  there  were  many 
—  nothing  equalled  the  press-rooms.  The 
presses  were  running  off  “  extras  ”  as  fast  as 
they  could  during  the  yacht  race,  and  every 
press-room  was  fairly  rocking  with  excitement. 
The  noise  was  deafening  to  the  boys,  though 
the  workmen  seemed  able  to  hear  one  another 
speak  without  difficulty.  Over  and  under, 
under  and  over,  the  endless  sheets  of  paper  flew 
through  the  immense  machines,  doubling  here, 
turning  a  corner  there,  quivering  with  the 
frantic  haste,  at  this  place  receiving  from  the 
big  rollers  the  impress  of  six  pages,  at  that  place 
the  impress  of  a  dozen  more,  and  at  the  bottom 
spurting  out  in  a  flood  of  complete  papers, 
printed,  folded,  pasted,  and  cut,  —  pat-pat-pat- 
patpatpat  —  as  fast  as  drops  ever  fell  in  a  sum¬ 
mer  shower. 

The  Caxton  Club  looked  at  those  machines 
in  amazement.  Said  Caspar  afterward,  “  I 
did  n’t  think  that  anything  could  do  the  work 
and  not  be  alive !  ” 

I  cannot  take  space  to  describe  that  crowded 
day,  much  as  I  should  like  to.  The  boys  went 
to  the  Public  Library.  They  visited  the  old 
State  House,  where  the  Colonial  Council  assem- 


88 


THE  C  A  XT  ON  CLUB. 


bled,  and  saw  Ben  Franklin’s  wooden  printing- 
press.  They  went  to  the  Old  South  Church, 
and  saw  the  window  through  which  Joseph  War¬ 
ren  stepped  to  deliver  his  famous  oration  on  the 
Massacre.  They  stood  on  the  spot  where  the  tea 
was  thrown  overboard  —  now  a  paved  street. 
They  entered  the  curious  old  church  from  whose 
towers  Paul  Revere’s  lanterns  flashed  across  to 
the  Charlestown  shore.  They  saw  Paul  Revere’s 
house,  with  its  quaint  overhanging  second  story. 
They  climbed  the  great  shaft  of  Bunker  Hill 
monument,  and  saw  the  scores  of  towns  out¬ 
spread  far  below,  with  the  ships  dotting  Boston 
Harbor,  and  the  blue  Atlantic  in  the  distance. 
And  in  the  evening  they  enjoyed  a  delightful 
talk  from  one  of  Boston’s  great  men,  Edward 
Everett  Hale,  who  wrote  two  of  the  books 
on  Ben  Earle’s  book  shelves,  “  The  Man  with¬ 
out  a  Country,”  and  “  In  His  Name,”  and 
delighted  them  with  memories  of  his  own  news¬ 
paper  days,  and  told  them  many  a  tale  of  Web¬ 
ster  and  Sumner,  of  Garrison  and  Wendell 
Phillips,  of  Longfellow  and  Lowell,  and  the 
other  giants  of  old  Boston  whom  he  had  known 
well. 

Altogether,  when  the  three  members  of  the 
Caxton  Club  tumbled  into  bed  that  night  it 
was  an  hour  before  they  could  get  to  sleep, 
because  their  heads  were  so  full  of  new  ideas,  and 


HO ,  FOR  THE  HUB! 


89 


their  tongues  so  busy  with  what  they  had  seen 
and  heard  during  their  first  day  at  the  Hub. 

If  they  had  known  what  was  to  happen  on 
the  morrow,  they  would  not  have  slept  at  all. 


90 


THE  C A  XT  ON  CLUB. 


XV. 

THE  TRANSOM. 

The  next  morning,  behold,  in  the  most  spa¬ 
cious  parlor  of  Young’s  Hotel,  the  N.A.P.A.  in 
solemn  session  ! 

Arthur’s  heart  failed  him  when  he  looked  on 
that  large  company  of  boys.  If  elected,  could 
he  ever  make  a  speech  of  acceptance  ?  If  he 
ever  made  his  opening  speech,  could  he  preside 
oyer  the  meetings  ?  If  he  presided  over  the 
meetings,  could  he  conduct  the  affairs  of  this 
great  body  during  the  coming  year  ?  Arthur, 
though  naturally  courageous  and  active,  pos¬ 
sessed  of  a  quick  and  keen  mind,  had  been 
housed  away  from  other  boys  and  their  life,  and 
he  suddenly  felt  that  his  ambition  was  overleap¬ 
ing  itself,  and  was  daring  what  he  began  to  see 
was  too  high  for  his  sweep. 

“  If  I  had  realized,”  he  whispered  to  Caspar, 
“  what  a  big  thing  this  is,  I  should  not  have  tried 
for  the  presidency.  I ’ve  a  mind  to  back  out  now.” 

“  Nonsense  !  ”  whispered  Caspar.  “  Guess  you 
can  do  as  well  as  that  stick  of  a  Bolton  !  ”  That 
thought  was  a  relief  to  Arthur. 


THE  TRANSOM . 


91 


As  rapidly  as  possible  the  preliminaries  were 
got  out  of  the  way,  and  the  convention  entered 
the  battle  for  which  all  were  eager  —  the  strug¬ 
gle  for  the  presidency. 

First  came  speeches  of  nomination,  and  these 
were  many ;  for,  as  I  have  said,  almost  half  the 
bojs  were  willing  to  take  the  exalted  office,  and 
the  other  half  were  willing  to  place  them  in 
nomination,  expecting  a  return  of  the  favor  next 
year.  Most  of  the  nominating  speeches  were 
brief,  merely  a  sentence  or  two,  being  made  by 
bashful  boys.  Others  had  been  carefully  thought 
out  and  recited  the  entire  history  of  the  candi¬ 
date,  from  his  birth  to  the  present  time,  setting 
forth  also  his  claims  to  the  presidency. 

But  it  was  soon  recognized  that  two  candidates 
alone  had  any  chance  of  election.  Bolton  was 
nominated  by  Dick  Grimes,  in  a  speech  of  con¬ 
siderable  ability,  for  Dick  had  brains,  though  he 
chose  to  put  them  to  bad  uses.  His  speech  was 
full  of  sly  thrusts  at  Arthur.  His  candidate  was 
not  a  recent  arrival  in  Amateurdom,  but  had  for 
years  been  a  hard  worker  in  the  ranks.  His  can¬ 
didate  was  not  entirely  unpractised  in  parlia¬ 
mentary  law,  but  for  years  had  taken  part  in 
their  annual  conventions.  His  candidate  was 
not  personally  unknown  to  the  convention,  but 
had  for  years  been  a  faithful  friend  to  them  all. 
His  candidate  was  not,  like  others,  backed  by 


92 


THE  C  A  XT  ON  CLUB. 


persons  of  no  character,  by  jailbirds,  by  thieves, 
but  by  the  most  respected  amateurs  in  the 
ranks. 

At  the  last  shot  Caspar  grew  pale  with  an¬ 
ger  ;  he  clinched  his  hands,  and  his  breath  came 
fast. 

Bolton’s  nomination  was  seconded  by  the  sec¬ 
retary  of  the  convention,  and  it  was  soon  made 
plain,  by  many  rulings  in  Bolton’s  favor,  that 
the  president  also  was  on  his  side. 

Ben  had  been  chosen  to  nominate  Arthur. 
As  he  rose  to  speak  he  was  received  with  hisses 
from  Bolton’s  champions,  and  with  cries  of 
“  Stamps  !  Stamps  !  Stamps  !  ”  One  fellow 
had  brought  in  an  iron  chain,  or  had  it  in  hid¬ 
ing,  clanking  it  at  this  point  and  now  and  then 
throughout  Ben’s  speech,  to  the  vast  amuse¬ 
ment  of  Bolton’s  comrades. 

u  Mr.  President,”  Caspar  shouted,  “  call  the 
convention  to  order  !  ” 

“  The  chair  knows  its  business,”  the  president 
answered  shortly. 

With  a  white  face,  yet  with  straightforward 
sentences,  Ben  spoke  for  his  friend,  urging  his 
proved  ability,  his  zeal  for  the  cause,  his  high 
personal  character  (and  poor  Ben  choked  here, 
and  the  chain  rattled),  his  leisure  and  abundant 
means,  mentioning  also  the  many  important 
papers  that  championed  his  cause. 


THE  TRANSOM. 


93 


One  of  the  most  respected  of  those  friendly  ed¬ 
itors  seconded  Ben’s  speech,  somewhat  too  briefly, 
evidently  being  daunted  by  the  way  in  which 
Ben  was  received.  Then  the  convention  fell  to 
balloting. 

On  the  first  ballot,  every  man  voted,  of  course, 
for  the  person  he  had  nominated,  and  these  com¬ 
plimentary  votes  made  the  result  quite  “  scat¬ 
tering,”  though  it  was  apparent  that  Bolton  and 

Colton  were  in  the  lead. 

? 

This  was  made  very  plain  by  the  second  bal¬ 
lot,  which  divided  the  boys  almost  equally,  Col¬ 
ton  being  in  the  lead,  but  without  enough  votes 
to  elect  him. 

So  it  remained  for  an  hour,  neither  side  yield¬ 
ing  an  inch.  Each  balloting  occupied  consider¬ 
able  time,  and  much  had  been  spent  in  the 
nominating  speeches,  so  that  only  eleven  ballot- 
ings  were  made  before  lunch,  when,  in  high  ex¬ 
citement,  the  boys  adjourned  for  an  hour. 

Bolton  and  his  company  were  conspicuously 
absent  from  the  N.A.P.A.  dining-room,  and  it 
was  soon  known  that  he  had  hired  a  separ¬ 
ate  room,  and  was  giving  his  followers  an  espec¬ 
ially  fine  repast.  This  news  cast  a  gloom  over 
Arthur’s  company,  because  it  looked  like  supe¬ 
rior  enterprise  ;  but  Caspar  went  everywhere, 
insisting  that  they  preferred  brains  to  oysters, 
and  rallied  his  forces  from  their  depression. 


94 


THE  C  A  XT  ON  CLUB. 


After  lunch  the  battle  went  on  much  as 
before.  Each  side,  in  excited  conversation,  at¬ 
tacked  the  members  of  the  opposing  party  that 
were  supposed  to  be  doubtful.  Argument  was 
heaped  on  argument,  persuasion  on  persuasion, 
but  without  result.  The  twentieth  ballot,  the 
twenty-first,  the  thirtieth,  the  thirty-first  —  and 
still  no  change  ! 

Then  it  was  that  Dick  moved  a  recess  of  half 
an  hour,  a  motion  which  the  president  declared 
passed  without  calling  for  the  dissenting  votes. 
Immediately  the  president  and  secretary,  Dick, 
Bolton,  and  all  his  supporters,  hurried  from  the 
room. 

“They  have  gone  to  hatch  up  some  trick  or 
other,”  said  Caspar. 

The  half  hour  passed,  and  they  did  not  return. 
Forty  minutes,  forty-five,  and  Arthur’s  company 
began  to  look  blank. 

Scouts  were  sent  forth,  and  were  a  long  time 
in  their  explorations  around  the  hotel. 

At  length  one  of  them  returned,  and  shouted, 
“  They ’ve  bolted  !  The  Boltonites  have  bolted  ! 
They  have  the  president  and  secretary,  and 
I  suppose  they  think  they  ’re  the  N.A.P.A ! 
They  ’re  electing  their  whole  list  of  officers  !  I 
heard  them  through  the  keyhole !  ” 

Caspar  jumped  up,  furious.  The  events  of  the 
day  had  aroused  all  the  combativeness  that  was 


THE  TRANSOM. 


95 


in  him.  “  Show  me  where  they  are  !  ”  he  cried, 
and  his  entire  force  hastened  after  him. 

Reaching  the  closed  door,  he  hammered  on  it, 
and  shook  it  with  all  his  might. 

“  Let  ns  in  !  ”  he  cried.  “  This  is  n’t  legal ! 
Let  ns  in !  ” 

A  roar  of  laughter  came  through  the  open 
transom. 

That  transom  gave  Caspar  an  idea. 

“Here,  fellows,”  he  whispered,  “boost  me  up 
there.  I’ll  get  in  and  open  that  door!  We  ’ll 
see  if  ”  — 

He  was  lifted  on  ready  shoulders  before  finish¬ 
ing  the  sentence. 

As  his  head  appeared  in  the  opening,  followed 
by  half  his  body,  another  roar,  this  time  of  anger, 
greeted  him.  The  tallest  of  the  boys  within 
sprang  to  push  him  back. 

“No!”  cried  Dick.  “Pull  him  through! 
We’ll  show  him!”  And  he  made  a  jump, 
caught  Caspar  by  the  neck,  and  jerked  him, 
head-foremost,  to  the  floor. 

The  boys  on  the  outside  perceived  a  sudden 
hush  within.  There  was  reason  enough  for  it. 
Caspar  was  stretched  out  motionless,  and,  to  all 
appearances,  dead. 


96 


THE  C A  XT  ON  CLUB . 


XVI. 

“FORGIVE  ME!  ” 

The  N.A.P.A.  conducted  no  more  business 
that  day. 

The  hotel  clerk,  to  whom  one  of  the  boys  ran, 
summoned  the  nearest  physician.  When  he 
came,  he  found  Caspar  in  his  room,  to  which  he 
had  been  carried  by  four  scared-faced  boys. 
He  had  begun  to  breathe  heavily,  and  his  face 
was  as  white  as  the  sheet  on  which  he  lay. 

“  Bad  business,  this  !  ”  exclaimed  the  doctor  as 
soon  as  he  saw  him.  “Alone  in  the  city?  You 
his  friends?”  as  Ben  and  Arthur  were  pointed  out. 
“  Telegraph  at  once  for  his  father  to  come  on  ! 

“  No,  he  is  n’t  dying,”  the  doctor  added, 
answering  Arthur,  “  but  it ’s  a  serious  case  — 
very !  ”  By  this  time  he  was  far  in  an  examina¬ 
tion  of  the  injured  boy. 

Ben  telegraphed  for  President  Grace,  wording 
his  message  with  care,  and  then  hastened  back 
to  get  the  doctor’s  verdict. 

“  He  has  a  chance,”  said  the  doctor  ;  “  but  he 
must  be  kept  absolutely  quiet,  and  he  must  have 
a  trained  nurse.  Shall  I  send  one?  ” 


“ FORGIVE  ME!” 


97 


u  Certainly,”  said  Arthur,  telling  who  he  was, 
and  who  Caspar’s  father  was. 

The  nurse  speedily  arrived  —  a  sweet-looking, 
daintily  dressed,  exceedingly  capable  young 
woman,  who  at  once  took  entire  control  in  the 
sick-room. 

The  chamber  next  door  was  occupied  by  con¬ 
vention  delegates,  but  they  vacated  it,  that  it 
might  be  used  by  Ben  and  Arthur.  A  door 
communicated  between  the  two  rooms.  This 
was  unlocked,  but  kept  closed. 

The  boys,  in  their  intense  anxiety,  had  no 
thought  of  dinner.  They  sat  talking  in  whispers, 
debating  how  soon  Mr.  Grace  would  arrive,  and 
going  over  the  events  that  had  led  to  the 
accident. 

About  eight  o’clock  Caspar  fell  into  a  delir¬ 
ium.  The  two  boys  could  hear  him  through  the 
closed  door.  His  ravings  were  terrible,  and  now 
and  then  he  gave  a  scream. 

Once  Arthur  and  Ben  opened  the  door  and 
looked  in,  but  the  nurse  waved  them  back. 

“  You  can’t  do  anything,”  she  whispered, 
“  and  you  might  excite  him  more.” 

About  nine  o’clock  there  came  a  rap  at  the 
door.  It  was  Dick  —  Dick  Grimes. 

He  was  haggard  and  downcast,  and  his  voice 
trembled  as  he  spoke. 

“  How  —  how  —  is  he  ?  ” 


98 


TJIE  CAXTON  CLUB. 


“  Listen  !  ”  said  Ben,  sternly,  and  there  was 
silence  in  the  room  as  moan  after  moan  came 
from  the  sufferer. 

Dick  groaned.  “  Oh,  fellows,”  he  asked, 
“will  you  eyer  forgive  me?  I  didn’t  mean  to 
hurt  him.  I  just  meant  to  pull  him  in  and  keep 
him  prisoner  awhile.  I  never  thought  of  his 
falling  on  his  head.” 

A  cry  from  the  sick  boy  stopped  Dick. 

“I  suppose  I  can’t  see  him?  ”  he  said,  after  a 
moment. 

“  No  ;  the  nurse  won’t  let  us,  even.” 

“Well,  anyway,  I’ll  tell  both  of  you  some¬ 
thing.  I  ’ll  feel  easier,  whatever  —  whatever  — 
happens.  I  want  to  say,  Arthur,  to  you,  that  I 
was  the  one  who  ruined  your  clubhouse,  and 
I  ’m  going  to  pay  for  it  when  I  get  home.  And 
I  want  to  say  to  you,  Ben,  that  I  did  see  that 
you  did  n’t  have  that  box  of  stamps.  And  I ’m 
going  to  tell  every  one  in  the  town  that  I  knew 
all  the  time  that  you  did  n’t !  ” 

The  hoys  were  too  much  surprised  to  speak. 
After  a  minute,  Ben  silently  held  out  his  hand. 
Then  Arthur  held  out  his. 

“  I ’m  ashamed  of  myself,”  stammered  Dick, 
shaking  hands  but  turning  to  go.  “  I ’ve  been 
ashamed  of  myself  ever  since  the  trial,  Ben, 
when  I  saw  how  you  carried  yourself,  and  what 
friends  you  had.  But,  somehow,  I  kept  on  act- 


“ FORGIVE  ME!” 


99 


ing  like  a  fool.  And  now  this  thing  has  hap¬ 
pened.  I  can't  make  this  thing  right !  ” 

44  What ’s  your  room,  Dick  ?  ”  Ben  found  voice 
to  ask.  44  We’ll  come  at  once  if  there’s  any 
change  in  Caspar.” 

44  One  hundred  and  fifty-two,”  said  Dick. 
44  Good-night.” 

44  Good-night  —  old  fellow  !  ”  cried  Ben  ;  and 
the  last  two  words  were  halm  to  the  unhappy 
boy,  who  went  away  to  a  sleepless  night. 

Ben  and  Arthur  had  no  time  to  talk  over 
this  unexpected  event,  for  the  nurse  opened 
the  door. 

44  Is  one  of  you  Ben  ?  ”  she  asked. 

44 1  am.” 

44  Well,  then,  I  guess  you’d  better  come  in. 
It ’s  against  the  doctor’s  orders,  hut  he  keeps 
calling  for  4  Ben,’  and  seems  to  have  something 
on  his  mind.  Perhaps  if  he  told  you  what  it  is, 
he  would  get  quiet.  But  don’t*  stay  more  than 
a  minute.” 

Ben  went  over  to  the  bed,  tiptoe. 

44  Want  to  see  me,  old  fellow?”  he  asked 
cheerily. 

44  That  you,  Ben?”  Caspar  cried  out,  trying 
to  sit  up.  44 1  am  so  glad  you  have  come  !  I 
wanted  to  tell  you  I  took  those  stamps  from  the 
office  I  You’ll  hate  me,  Ben,  hut  don’t  be  too 
hard  on  me !  I  did  n’t  think.  It  was  half  in 


100 


THE  C AX  TON  CLUB. 


fun.  I  threw  them  away  just  as  soon  as  I 
thought  it  was  stealing.  And  then,  when  they 
put  it  on  you,  I  turned  such  a  coward !  But 
I  have  been  so  troubled,  Ben,  —  oh,  you ’d  for¬ 
give  if  you  knew  how  it  has  troubled  me, 
Ben !  ” 

44  Caspar,”  said  Ben,  finding  the  sick  boy’s 
hand,  “I  do  forgive  you,  with  all  my  heart,  so 
don’t  think  any  more  about  it.” 

44  But  the  jail,  Ben,  —  will  they  send  me  there  ? 
You  know  I  must  tell  every  one ;  yes,  father  and 
mother,  and  everv  one  in  town.” 

1/ 

Ben  told  Caspar,  rapidly,  of  Dick’s  visit  and 
confession.  44  If  we  forgive  him  what  he  did 
you  may  be  sure  that  he  and  his  father  will  be 
glad  to  forgive  you  what  you  did,  Caspar.” 

44  Perhaps,”  sighed  Caspar.  44  But  I  shall  tell 
every  one,  Ben,  just  the  same.” 

Here  the  nurse  came  up. 

44  You  have  talked  as  long  as  I  dare  have  you,” 
said  she. 

44It’s  all  right,”  said  Caspar,  looking  at  her 
brightly.  44  Good  night,  Ben,  old  chap.” 

It  was  all  right,  for  in  a  few  minutes  the  nurse 
came,  smiling,  into  the  boys’  room. 

44  He ’s  sleeping  quietly  now,”  she  said ;  44  that 
means  he  will  get  well.  Now  you ’d  better  go  to 
sleep  yourselves.  I  ’ll  call  you  if  there  should 
be  any  change  for  the  worse.” 


“FORGIVE  ME!” 


101 


So  the  boys  went  to  bed,  though  not  until  they 
had  been  to  Dick’s  room  with  their  good  news. 

But  they  were  long  in  getting  to  sleep.  It 
was  while  they  were  thus  wakeful,  reviewing 
many  things,  that  two  brilliant  thoughts  came  to 
Arthur.  The  first  thought,  however,  was  not 
quite  brilliant  enough  to  do  without  the  aid  of 
the  electric  light,  which,  jumping  up,  he  turned 
on. 

“  What  are  you  about  ?  ”  asked  Ben,  watching 
Arthur  as  he  found  a  pencil  and  bit  of  paper. 

“  I ’ve  an  inspiration.  Oh,  Ben,  you  old  hum¬ 
bug  !  ” 

“  Are  you  growing  crazy  ?  ”  asked  Ben,  sitting 
up. 

“No  ;  my  brain  is  all  right,  especially  the  Lee 
Brane  section.  How  stupid  in  us  not  to  have 
seen  that  the  letters  of  4  Lee  Brane  ’  spell  ‘  Ben 
Earle  ’ !  ” 

“  Is  that  all  ?  ”  laughed  Ben.  “  Kate  saw  that 
weeks  ago.” 

Going  back  to  bed,  Arthur  indulged  himself 
in  several  punches  planted  on  the  body  of  Lee 
Brane  ;  but  he  did  not  pursue  the  subject,  for  his 
mind  was  busy  with  his  second  brilliant  idea. 


102 


THE  C  A XT  ON  CLUB. 


XYII. 

PRESIDENT  EARLE. 

When  the  N. A. P. A.  came  together  the  next 
morning  the  members  saw  an  unexpected  sight. 
Ben  was  absent,  caring  for  Caspar,  but  Arthur 
was  there,  sitting  with  Dick,  the  two  talking 
together  in  the  most  friendly  way  imaginable. 

This  was  presently  explained,  for  as  soon  as 
the  meeting  was  opened,  Arthur  rose  and  made 
the  following  speech : 

“  Mr.  President,  Fellow  Editors :  I  rise  to 
withdraw  my  name  from  nomination  for  the  pres¬ 
idency.  I  thank  all  the  fellows  who  stood  by 
me  yesterday,  but  really  I  have  n’t  sufficient  ex¬ 
perience  to  be  your  president.  I  ought  to  have 
seen  that  before.  But  I  will  put  in  nomination 
some  one  who  is  worthy  of  the  office,  and  that 
is  Lee  Brane.” 

Here  there  was  a  decided  sensation,  for  Lee 
Brane  had  been  a  mystery  to  all  the  members, 
far  and  near,  as  well  as  to  the  Caxton  Club. 
Indeed,  it  had  begun  to  be  whispered  around  that 
probably  Arthur  himself  was  the  Great  Unknown, 
and  the  rumor  had  won  him  many  adherents. 


PRESIDENT  EARLE. 


103 


“Yes,  Lee  Brane,”  proceeded  Arthur,  enjoy¬ 
ing  the  sensation  he  had  produced.  44  It  was 
only  last  night  that  I  thought  out  who  he  is. 
But  you  can  see  for  yourself.  Check  off  the 
letters  in  his  name,  and  you  will  see  that  4  Lee 
Brane  ’  spells  4  Ben  Earle.’  ” 

On  this  announcement  there  was  a  second  sen¬ 
sation,  much  greater  than  the  first,  and  Dick 
Grimes  led  in  a  round  of  applause. 

44  You  all  know  Lee  Brane,  that  is,  Ben  Earle, 
as  the  most  brilliant  writer  in  all  Amateurdom,” 
went  on  the  speaker.  44  He  is  also  a  brilliant 
editor.  The  Learner  is  more  his  work  than  that 
of  any  one  else.  The  name  is  his,  and  most  of 
the  ideas.  We  others  help,  but  he  is  the  leader, 
the  real  editor-in-chief. 

44  There  is  also  another  point  in  his  favor  to 
be  considered,  but  that  will  be  brought  out  by 
my  friend,  Richard  Grimes.” 

Still  a  third  sensation  as  Dick  arose,  and  the 
biggest  one  of  all ;  for  in  a  few  manly  words  he 
withdrew  whatever  he  had  said  against  Ben’s 
character,  and  apologized.  He  praised  Ben  in 
the  highest  terms  he  could  think  of,  seconded 
the  nomination  with  all  his  heart,  and  moved 
that  the  election  be  made  unanimous. 

This  was  done  with  a  great  hurrah,  in  which 
even  Bolton,  to  his  everlasting  credit,  had  the 
grace  to  join. 


104 


THE  C A  XT  ON  CLUB . 


Bolton  himself,  with  Arthur  and  Dick,  were 
appointed  a  committee  to  inform  Ben  of  his 
election  and  escort  him  into  the  presence  of  the 
convention.  This  was  done  in  due  form,  and 
he  received  a  triple  ovation,  as  Ben  Earle,  as  Lee 
Brane,  and  as  the  new  president  of  the  N.A.P.A. 
The  little  ceremony  —  or  as  much  of  it  as 
took  place  in  the  sick-room  —  was  a  cordial  to 
Caspar ;  he  watched  and  listened  with  spark¬ 
ling  eyes,  and  with  a  mind,  for  the  first  time  in 
many  weeks,  quite  happy  and  at  peace. 


And  now  my  story  is  near  its  close. 

I  might  tell  of  President  Grace’s  gladness  as 
he  arrived  aiid  found  his  son  rapidly  recovering. 

I  might  tell  of  the  good  time  Arthur,  Ben,  and 
Dick  enjoyed,  tarrying  in  Boston  till  Caspar 
could  bear  the  journey  home  —  how  they  stood 
on  Plymouth  Rock,  and  on  Concord  Bridge,  and 
on  the  village  green  at  Lexington,  and  in  the 
old  Witch  House  in  Salem. 

I  might  tell,  too,  that  as  soon  as  Caspar  was 
once  more  at  home  he  made  a  straight  confession 
to  his  father  and  mother  of  his  thoughtless  joke 
on  the  post-office.;  and  that,  moreover,  for  a 
long  time  he  insisted  upon  taking  a  position  out 
on  the  village  green  and  proclaiming  his  bad  deed 
to  every  passer-by,  but  that  at  last  he  was  made 


PRESIDENT  EARLE. 


105 


to  see  that  this  would  not  in  any  way  serve  the 
public  good,  since  Dick’s  open  exoneration  of 
Ben  was  sufficient,  and  that  the  matter  was  finally 
settled  by  his  being  allowed  to  make  a  clean 
breast  of  it  to  Mr.  Colton,  Judge  Miller,  and 
Squire  Holbrook. 

I  might  tell,  too,  how  Dick  Grimes  started 
out  to  grow  manly  and  straightforward  from 
the  time  of  the  convention,  giving  up  his  old 
associates  and  entering  eagerly  into  his  new 
opportunities  of  friendship  ;  and  how,  one  fine 
day,  he  was  unanimously  chosen  the  fifth  mem- 
bor  of  the  Caxton  Club. 

I  might  tell  these  things,  and  a  dozen  events 
besides ;  for  the  story  of  the  club  went  right  on. 
But  I  think  the  tale  is  long  enough  already. 

Only,  you  should  know  that  when  Dick  was 
elected,  Caspar  said,  “You  ’re  too  late  to  be  our 
D,  Dick,  for  that  letter  was  taken  up  by  Kate 
Davenport  Earle.” 

“  Why,  that ’s  all  right,”  said  Dick,  “  for  now 
I  can  be  your  E.  Did  n’t  you  know  that  my 
name  is  Richard  Edgar  Grimes  ?  ” 

“Hurrah!”  shouted  Arthur.  “You  come 
straight  and  regular  in  the  Caxton  alphabet !  ” 


UNIVERSITY  OF  ILLINOIS-URBANA 


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3  0112  001318887  A 


